Poem Eleven: Annunciation
*
You are yellow
with pollen.
Counted apple seeds
in your palm.
Hymns stain
your lips.
A moth-winged flower
opens.
A single pistil
emerges
from the throat
of the flower
sticky,
potent.
When I shift beyond
the mind—
the blossoming
heavy, sweet.
A lifeboat,
a song.
*