You passed me a bowl of oolong tea.
I giggled hard again, and so did you.
*
I pointed at a star within Orion.
You said it was my time to die.
*
Over there, by the cypress tree, we met her
and we both were stirred.
*
You wore a brocade robe, sage and violet.
I was only a baby.
*
The river moved like honey that night,
the plum wine made it so.
*
I sharpened my blade on his wanting neck.
You did not disapprove.
*
Her love took you by surprise, but I felt it
early on, when we rode single on the steppe.
*
Three times they warned you the camp was north.
You wouldn’t listen.
*
Yours was a gift from Cygnus.
I will never forget it.
*
I clutched your forearm, but the rain was like oil
and I lost it.
*
After that morning I kept the bronze coin
in a box, always, next to my altar.
*
The blue bird was a kingfisher,
not a jay.
*
The jar was empty.
He fooled us both.
*
But the lantern we carry—
steady over these marble bridges—
it cannot be blown out.