Kitestrings

I can’t keep chasing kites of memory
unraveling strings of wounds
Time bandages a knife cut and
Night covers both the blooming
jasmine and the prisoner’s cell
A traveler climbs a ribbon of moonlight
to his vanishing regret
Don’t follow me, my darling
Empty the sheets of my absence
Don’t keep my shoes on the porch or
leave the door unlatched
I’ve taken the path that leads
everywhere and nowhere to drift
on oceans of sand and currents of wind
Our dreams are lifelines
We’ve no more choice than the osprey
who lays her eggs or the leopard who
stalks his prey, except to go hungry
These days there are only predators and no prey
The cherry blossoms fall as soon as they’re bloomed
The fragrant scent of the hyacinth is no stranger to
the stench of blood and the salt of the sea
stings long after the arrow of the breeze
The Old Great Highway has turned to sand
and the crumbling cliff by the water’s edge has
plummeted to the sea
Our footprints dissolve as soon as they appear
while the foraging cats concealed in the
corners of your brows dig up old bones
Let the seagulls swoop and dive where our table of
olives and wine were blessed, my darling!
Let the raccoons devour the last of our supper
and the golden eagle carnage our wings
in the epiphany of dawn!
There is no such thing as a gentle knife, my love
A woman’s freedom is a rose with thorns
Cut the string, I say, and let sail
your woman!