108
Your eyes are shining in my crumpled paper lamps,
When with your tongue, I tie my scraps of tearing days,
When with your skin, I wipe my tears of whining wind,
When with my joints, I join the splinters of your weeks,
When with your ears, I link the sounds within my name,
When with my lips, I paint the fresco of your face,
When with my hips, I seal your seeds of growing words,
When with your mouth, I heal the fever of my thirst,
When with my nipples, I am writing on your chest --
Your eyes are shining in my little paper lamps.
|