dear aphrodite -
the earth is awash with
trickling lovers
like hummingbirds in winter;
dear aphrodite, goddess of
the reddening evening, the
blush of sunset -
dear aphrodite, of
bloody hands and mattresses
you know little,
but that the blossoming red -
always -
is crafted by your hand.
dear aphrodite, my love affair
is the budding breast of a cornflower morning
is the gently parted lips of spring prosperity
is the dusting of blossoming poppy kisses;
dear aphrodite, blood is
frozen in the
chastity of winter.