Emotion in Chiffon
Emotion in Chiffon
How the wind rustles through the thin chiffon — the water that dresses you
the butterflies woven in the fabric go wild and the light breaks through,
beneath your lids a smile blooms — a sweet guilt of burning poppy
and you don't know what secret slipped your fingers — a thread left untouched, gone sloppy.
The buds crowd the trees — a frightened multitude afraid of silence
scared you'll go quiet and the wind will be left alone in its violence,
the silence burns like tinder — one spark and the whole field is all flame
and the dress rustles soft as great poppy petals falling without shame.
Let your gaze drift prey among the thoughts — a slow and swirling eddy
like cold waters once wandering through you on the shoals — murmur always ready
you watched them struggle shyly — a small flood that knew a name
and the butterflies in waves carried you beyond all borders, beyond all frame.
The butterflies kneel in the starlit dusk — a litany of wings
you feel all at once your breasts are light — two poppies in the dark, small things
the dew weeping its mystery — warm rain beneath your dewy gaze
washing your illumined face in chiffon newly bloomed and ablaze.
How the wind rustles through the chiffon — an old secret returning
the butterflies panic in the sky — a spring that keeps on burning,
beneath your lids the smile — a poppy bud catching fire in the calendar
and the dress teaches you to marvel at your own light — the oldest altar.
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