She chased me from the poppies

a woman discovers gravity, celestial<e>
            plan<e>s, vestal virgins
in hip pockets--so she says with<e> volition:

make rickshaw from bon<e>
see all pliant things fold<e>
metamorphos<e> into palm

we talk of missing home, honey-locust thorns ,
bellies chafe wild<e> flowers, make their marks
on forehead’s slick (and even slicker wet pebbles)

imagine goose bumps when I heard she was
a galaxy uncharted, a space between thumb<e>s,
knuckles--and I press<e>d her for worth

watched her butterfly over the skies of Cyprus--

look<e> down

I must have compress<e>d universe
in these fingers.