How to Make Love in the Garden of Good and Evil
       

Your nimbus is pouring. Your halo shows off from under my dress,
          bird of light. Unwit cage. In a beginning there was a fruit & a noose
-shaped animal making a woman a woman. One man. I mean anima

          gone: eureka, my skin is half amphibious wick, total flaming sword
& bared as the day he was born. Now one man's trash is another's
          pleasure & it pleases the first man, too. The angel reeks like a cellar

put to good use: the devil climbs the stairs: the angel his hot blade
          all over the dominant hand of oh god, pain, deliverer & profit, old
master hung on the bevel-licked starboard wall. Hangs this heart &

          that. You, ill logic in triplet, meet like three flit wings on the back
of a terrible bird. Your dactyl reeling. To adaptations of the broken
          heart, an oath, I mean, a silencer. As in: This can't be the first time

you've done this before, honey, & no one will mean for a horseman
          riding hard for my teeth, for in the future there are furies & roofs
that shatter at the fathers of earth & sky. On each, a woman of war

          bathing. Your body is choosing sides. This can't be the first time, but
it always is. In the beginning. There. I said let there be one beast
          & it flew toward me as a holy bomb. & Adam was his own apple &

I unholy total babe of sweated light, sliding through the grass, un
          -washed blade. All night, against the bower root, I dream weapons
grow on trees. I wake quivered in a stranger's mouth & oh you slip

          back down the stairs. You take time: the angel wields. Names it all
to save it. I am for falling, lit bird. The bees are with passion & I
          use a word I'd never know. The lilies of the vale are guilty, guilty.

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Copyright © 2013 Lo Kwa Mei-en All rights reserved
from Ninth Letter
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission