I have been to your garden,
listening as the water falls
over rippled Terracotta walls
I have felt the flow of water through granite
hearing only movement whispering to birds
and the chatter of children.
I have felt the sculpture of clay
moving over my body
defining my toes and feet
modeling my breasts
carving my eyes into eternity’s heart.
I stand watching you,
and when you turn your back and leave
I sing prayers for you
So that you may be blessed
by skillful hands that guide through the universe
I am no less than geometric algorithms
No more than the fissures of gilded
Bronze, silver, and gold.
I am the imagined
Where dreams and death are made, separated,
and given to creation.