by Lois Marie Harrod
Bless this man who sleeps beside me
who breathes his arms around
my sometimes Shiva destroying sleep
Vishnu with his lotus dream
thigh across my thigh, fat foot against my own,
most at midnight like the dire god
neither of us pretend to understand
the dragon some believe
holds all in the frond of his hand,
yes, crushed in his palms
like Jurassaic ferns, various
and reappearing as a new species,
in the Yuzhou area
of Henan Province.
Bless this man like the rare plant I am.
Press him here.