Emerging

from the make-believe, she radiates

quiet violet.

Opening her arms

her scent crystalizes,

diamonds carved into waves

curling, curling across fantasies.

He studies her

a fraud falling backwards,

snatches her scent,

greed permeating this villain,

the catalyst.

Her fingers grip

the end of his storm.

Nails scraping through layers

Of buffalo grass and damp shoes.

But he soon vanishes

lurking in sky crevices

for the next thieving monsoon.

So for what lofty belief,

does the rare orchid

sacrifice its petals?

- For Aaron and Pablo Neruda

Poetry Final Collection of 10 poems, 10.04.2011