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I never knew that eyes could slash a space --
Two flying disks, the razors of your blue,
Through bursting canvas stretched on frames of wood,
Through patterns painted with the ground red sand.
You made my paint transparent with your cut,
With air exploding out from loosed balloons,
With smitten straw of walls between my rooms,
The cracking leather of wide-opened drums.
You dressed me naked in the rags of clothes.
I am a planet with your circling moons,
I am the skin with scrapes of your tattoos --
Within the rags of space, on frames of bones.
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