If the muse should choose a language
she would choose this flawless English
to fold her thought in that entire quasi-family
of words, as I filled the false pockets of your coat
with uncombed lavender blossoms.
Once familiar things are more naked
than your skin darkened with soorma,
a Russian word meaning destruction,
as in the first wartime colour photograph,
Zenana, true bed woman, Saint Quadphone.