The trees may touch me once
And let me gleam into leaves
For all the incandescent love
I have in me.
Smear honey on me:
On my face, my mouth, my lids
To emolliate my
Feverish skin.
I want the curd-pale moon
Along with her attendant stars
To pour us their light
Till we're dripping silver.
And I sometimes think that
With your bloody lips
We could paint the white lilies
A vibrant red.
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