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For Gustave Moreau

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The streets are my body
or rather the wish
of the skin to put on
the grass in a gold rain

not vice-versa,
the lips twisting to allow
the tongue to play in
the broken mirror on the floor
Catches an arm
a distance
                 the light
at the ceiling
                    This kills
the lift begged
of a magical hand

I have walked a long way
traced in these pieces
an arm
a crotch     The queen
of faerie guarded
by blue-winged griffins

Untouched by

Robin Blaser, “For Gustave Moreau” from The Holy Forest: Collected Poems of Robin Blaser. Copyright © 2006 by Robin Blaser.  Reprinted by permission of University of California Press.
Source: The Holy Forest: Collected Poems of Robin Blaser (University of California Press, 2006)
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For Gustave Moreau

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