When I first saw you blooming the color was now
protests sprang from your rapid hands
like a second set of fingers
you were learning to use
the betrayal of others
in place of your own pain
and your mouth was smiling
off-center
in the total confusion.
I never saw nor visited by day
the place where your swans
were conquered.
When I met you again
your mouth had centered
into aloneness
you said you had come apart
but your earth had been nourished
into a new garden of strong smells.
I felt you wanting
to mourn
the innocence of beginnings
that old desire for blandness.
I feel your sadness
deep in the center of me
and I make a pact with you sister
if you will not sorrow
I will not tell.