Naima, I should perfume my letters,confuse spices with my ink,spirit tea from orange peels and sugar....
gal, too beautiful,make a fool preacherburn his Bible.
I know the lime or vinegar tasteof leaves in rain,but I crave the criminal flavour of redwine sick with magenta lipstick.
Naima, I shake like rain,wanting not to want.I'd settle for your portrait,
some static homage beautiful but --watercolours either touch into flameor moisture's acid consumes the images.
Naima,I should....Lawd, have mercy,Lawd, have mercy, gal.
Our poetry will closeeither in flames or flowers.
