Oil burst bright from the rind-wound,
sudden annunciation.

Warm mammalian sweetness,
bodies nursing sorrow mouth first.

Even the blossom knows this:
stamen gold with fatal dust,
petals already collapsing toward
the earth that asked for them.

If God wants anything
it must be our brief animal heat,
the unbearable fragrance
we release when we break.

I have loved people
for the light already leaving them.