When I think about you
calling to
the mud, sand and sea—
show me
the way to go home—
I see
how deep you mined for your
deeply colored lips. How rich
am I to wear you
in the shower, while
I sleep? I swear
to tell the grocer and
each hand I shake how
you were born
and how, for a thousand
years, your forbearers were
worn for weddings, and fed
the children
of the earth.