Lover

your exuberance falls on me like rain
I am a flower in the desert
drinking my fill

your hands open me like a fruit
even the sight of them
ripens my flesh

your palace rises like the sun
all its bold treasures
quicken my heart

Nam

My sight
all but passive observation,
I've been willingly unstringed.
My eyes
delusional conquerors,
This world will not bend.

It is not the sand
or the wind
or even the night sky
alone
that seeps into your blood
and changes every angle
of your thoughts.

There is much much more
that I cannot grasp
Even this poem is a poor attempt
and perhaps even
composed in the wrong tongue.

You cannot just hope
that shorter lines will bring some coherence
or extract
the exact meaning
of this fractured realm.

If I could write in kilometers
or the sound of a warm breeze
or the kiss of my lover
or the rush of earth approaching
my head,
I could perhaps explain why
I simply cannot be the who
that I was
before I was invaded
by question marks
and all that
space.