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YOUR VOICE (in your body rivers stir
a tranquil foliage; grave and cadenced waters).
--From this door, the pleasures, their thresholds;
from this ring, they're transfigured--
In your forests of liquid sand,
of dense, pale jade (deep water, cleaved;
this door carved into the naves of dawn). My eyes half-
shut at your slope--Water
clinging to the light (at your body the rivers merge, hardening
between nitrous ceiba trees. Flame--door of igneous glimmer--
you circle and sweat me out: over this glaze, under those spongy valleys, between this mantle, this flesh
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