When I am dead love,
please take my soul to the beach and its waves
whose blue and white language I always loved
to hear. Take me to the boats at the marina
so I can fill their sail-hearts with tulips.
Let me watch, again, the cargo ships near the horizon
which never seemed to be moving
when I watched them from the shore
as a child.
Take me to a field where butterflies play on the shoulders
of flowers, where we can lie on the grass
and let doves bless our dreams
till they, too, are free of anchors.
Take me to a place where the shoes of sadness
don’t fit anybody. Let me see an earth
where fires exist only to warm
the hands of those who are cold.
Let’s go to the valleys of my childhood
a kingdom where children play house–
the smoke rising from pretend chimneys—
where all you can hear are mothers
calling the children to a sweet dinner
of apples and honey.
I will put on a beautiful gown
made of evening’s air,
and we will dance in an orchard of red pianos
to the prayers of children
who learned only yesterday
that it was possible to pray without opening their mouths.
.