Fair queenly one! Your veins are the ferment

of my ancient nonbeing and of the black

champagne of my life!

Your hair is the undiscovered rootlet

of the tree of my vine.

Your hair is the strand from a miter

of fantasy that I lost!

Your body is the bubbly skirmish

of a pink Jordan;

and it ripples, like a beatific whip

that would have put the viper of evil to shame!

Your arms create a thirst for the infinite,

with their hesperidian castes of light,

like two white redeeming roads,

two dying wrenchings of a cross.

And they are molded in the unconquered blood of

my impossible blue!

Your feet are two heraldic larks

eternally arriving from my yesterday!

Fair queenly one! Your feet are the two tears

I choked back, descending from the Spirit

one Palm Sunday when I entered the World,

already forever distant from Bethlehem!