Come walk on the calcified beach with me
tonight. Be sure to wear the resurrected pearls
from your Lazarus jewel box. Come barefoot
so we might wade in the incidental surf.
After awhile, take off your Peruvian hat,
that heavy bonnet with the Andean peak,
and I will remove my triangular nutmeg
colonial cap, that ghastly miter.
Then pull off your seaweed shift over
your shoulder blades, sea cat, and shake out
your strawberry top of curly red hair,
while I slip off my shirt of Spanish moss.
Sparse doves will flash in the periwinkle sky
as we swim out to the breakers professing love,
unequal and bittersweet, and drink light from that
false cup-and-saucer, the bleeding, incised moon.