Purpura, I will breath in you,
the purple-pink flowers of
foxflove, when you collapse.

Clairvoyance. I can see
through you beyond the fog,
in the darkest night.

This was the primitive pain.
My pampering has given
you a taste of surrender.

Like an unborn poem
you swim on my tongue
to find the shores.

I want to lower the―
guard and dance with the roving death.

Ah, the passion flower.
You will not mind, if I
embrace your beautiful sunset.