Keep your eyes from my zippers and snaps,
oh sky, and stop your lip licking
for you tempt me. Still,
I won't spin your blue wool
because my spindle's now a prisoner,
my wheel, a deportee.

They constructed a wall of black stones,
a filthy barricade of concrete
that eclipsed both light and love.
Step aside, sky,
your sweet nothings sweat calamity.

But I can't ask you to leave
for you must stay above us eternally.
I'm now blind with forty eyes
and love is lame despite its forty feet.
Extend your blue ladder
from earth to the light and white.

Don't leave, oh sky.
Please, don't go. Hover forever
and, if you like, sing your blues
with that voice like water flowing from faucets.
Please don't leave. Please stay forever
leaning your full blue breasts
to the parched lips of the plains.
You see, I'm hungry and thin
and I'll remain unsated
even should I suckle a thousand years.