cheeks make ripe like rosehips. red bitten strawberry like the singing of lips, sleep dropping from hours
her guitar as our leader. the berries mounded
in a cut crystal dish, and the new moon cat-napping where no one can see her.
this dappled party the night that I met her among figures that shifted like fish among shadows.
long ago. now lost her face buried
a wish in a fountain.
cdzhouse 