Sonata

Sonata

we have gotten beyond all that

shadows in the new moon

cherry blossoms every April

sun in equinox too soon

tulips, daffodils, forsythia

 this is a letter

a plea to the spring sight of you

London in May, July in San Juan

I am so hungry for the past

filled with lovers

at least then I had my pick

to bite the full throat of you

to sleep in your arms

to lay my hair across your face

to claim you simply

as one reaches and picks a flower

red flor de maga in wind

my hands trembling