A woman lies naked,
bronzed and cold—nipples taut—
thinks, “Love in the Mountains.”

No explanation reaches toward her,
and what she calls love is nothing
or conquest that flies in the wind.

Certainly turquoise is among flowers
& royal & purple & rust. Eyelashes
guide warrior-wings, puffs of thunder.

She sees everything but
the absent chariot & dangerous thing
Zeus is swinging, way to low.

based on “Love In the Mountains” by Miki