Another Garden

The breaths of the peach tree, wound in the invisible air, take me in their embrace. I come toward your garden. I cross the hedge. The yellow lights of afternoon are at play on my eyelashes, on the leaves. The sap of your garden’s plant has welled up, gathered on the bark: a bronze resin, glossy in the sun, colored candy! — I take the resin, I draw it toward me, it stretches, it sticks to my fingertips like a welling of sap from within my body, my sap. Drawn into its colorful wonders I press the sap to my lips, I roll it with tongue and palate, playing, and sucking it in my hot mouth; your peach candy. Under the umbrella of the sky, the blue sky, beside the stream, on the ground of a garden that you raised, in the shining of the sun of love, unguarded, unlocked, open to me night and day: behind the hedges of my salty eyelids, in all my dreams...