Daydream

This woman is salt
a mystery of hair
This woman has eyes
looked into often
(where there should be water
only air)

Her lips a fourfold muscle
echoing the heart
Her legs
defense against
a disappointment

This gladness might be
deep
with
small mirrors in it
sometimes
when the light reaches it
when the wind slides
after the sun

But no cup
small enough
to dip with here
water
if you see any
foreshadowing of tears

William Timberman