Soap

I've been using the soap

you gave to me, I don't know why.

Did you think my hands were dirty?

The truth, however,

is that now I sense I'm getting cleaner

as I slowly rub

these fragile, drowsy fingers,

these memories of clay under my nails.

Mirrors

I'm sorry. I got

carried away by the emotions.

Didn't mean the things I said.

Let me brush your hair,

let me comb away the angry thoughts

that crowd your mind

while the mirrors watch us.

Light flowers

I sleep

and right above my head

hangs a dim, withering rose.

All her essence drops

on my lips, the avid dreamers,

unconcerned

with the ghostly beauty of her decay.

Ah, they dream

of blossoming flowers

twinkling in the dark.

Swan song

Let me lie among the reeds,

let me lie among the busy swans.

I know that they can't sing:

I'll sing for them about the misty dawn

that doesn't come,

about the girl who leaped much like

the moon upon the fence of my static home,

challenging me

with pallid vibration.