Ghazal of the Morning Marketplace

Through Elvira s Arch
I want to see you pass,
find out your name
and start to cry.

What grey nine o’clock moon
drained your cheek of blood?
Who gathers up your seed,
sudden splash on the snow?
What needle of brief cactus
assassinates your crystal? . . .

Through Elvira ’s Arch
I’m going to see you pass,
drink your eyes
and start to cry.

Your voice raised to punish me
in the marketplace!
The carnation exiled
in the wheat-piles!
How distant, you and I together,
how close when you depart!

Through Elvira ’s Arch
I’m going to see you pass,
know your thighs
and start to cry.