sutra
(for g.)


skies are falling, aquamarine quilts laid
cloud-spotted at your feet.  you choose a narrow
path, blond with brown pebbles, leading
to where shadows lean across cliff faces.

twinkling diamonds, underneath coal-pitch eyes.
no mining needed.  but the age, evident.  set in
a royal lady's necklace are individually
bound facts, an immense array of thetas, 
chis, and the logic that X follows Y.

rugged edges result from centuries of picks,
down the sandstone, almost a lost shell.  but your wings 
know better, delve into the slit of the unknown as
if an osprey.     winds blow the quilts between two legs, 
human --  effortless, the sky pours forth -- without
needing to know, that each flower blooms twice.



--jennifer crystal chien