I hunt for a sign of you in all the others,
in the rapid undulant river of women,
braids, shyly sinking eyes,
light step that slides, sailing through the foam.
Suddenly I think I can make out your nails-
oblong, quick, nieces of a cherry-:
then it’s your hair that passes by, and I think
I see your image, a bonfire, burning in the water
.
I searched, but no one else had your rhythms,
your light, the shady day you brought from the forest;
nobody had your tiny ears.
You are whole-exact-and everything you are is one,
and so I go along, with you I float along, loving
a wide Mississippi toward a feminine sea.