"The weight and feel of harps, your arms,
the swish glissando love make, wordless.
Spinet, turned along its side.
The notes mainstay amid most untracked.
Scars unlace themselves from stars.
Last night, Venus, Jupiter, the onomatopoeia moon.
A nonexistent need.
Only the mind to feel.
A brush of arm's unclothed.
Vowel sounds occur to skin.
Near effort might be soul.
Wings, momentarily reclining.
Roasted something.
Roses crisp.
The glisten, morning roses."