The Girl in the Distance

 

Do ribbons burn your mellow skin?
(sunlight warbling in the meadow)
Does your mouth skin ribbons of red silk?
(ripe fruits freckling your strange purpose)

Secure your eyes against me,
  against anyone
who would undefended
   hail your gaze.

Do spoken rivers heal your crackling drought?
(seeds seeking desparate winds)
Does your flood feel the river's suckling path?
(strangers struggling in the current sand)

Pale your fingers beyond me,
  beyond anyone
who would without force
   fold your white hands.