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

No explanation reaches toward her
head, 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 & what Zeus is
swinging, way to low.

Inspired by Miki’s painting, “Love In the Mountains