A green wig on a willow stump.
Dog’s blood in every catbrier berry.
Trace of moonlight skint from a window.
Rainbow pressed deep into a voice.
The ambassador’s three daughters are
whispering to their youngest brother’s ghost.
The ghost is slanting an ember across
his assassin’s tongue while the assassin
sleeps, childlike, brushing a willow leaf.
The ember swallows almost everything
in the embassy. Someone is trying to awaken.
Light pours out again. Lilacs cluster with smoke.
A small cobra raises its hood against the Zodiac.
Heaven is not shackled to the heat inside its veins.