the warmth in my blood is a lifetime of knives

quarrels with the moon, magnificent

the warmth in my blood is a delight

though i have doubts    i weigh and decide about other’s lives

no idea of existence puts color in my cheeks

this blood has some light from the birth of the sky:

those in the towers    left behind

the ocean parted from its farthest shore

beneath a pearl of light that failed to march with time