The Opium Den

i almost dream, almost touch

because you are reaching, reaching
                                        you do- reach
                              no one will see this

"what makes you happy? what do you do for fun?" the new person is now asking.
"let me touch your hair."

i want to choke. he is fragile, too tender and will make a good husband for someone, perhaps he is a husband.
it's too late for husbands.

1,2,3,4,5
seven day candles stay lit day and night
i am feeding the dead small plates of my best cooking
corn meal
two dove eggs
millet
no rice, no hot pepper

i once asked a man not to leave:

come back                       come back               come back                    come back

       "                                            "                                   "                                       "

       "                                            "                                   "                                       "

       "                                            "                                   "                                       "

perhaps i meant it.

here and there are photographs that have been taken of me. too many really -in various countries
they show that i was a believer in it all.

i once wore jasmine, once wore neroli

before my leggings of willow bark
headdress of matchsticks
shield of swallows

angelica root
azure and white smoke. small, steady stream smoke.