The mind that I love
must understand feral
and fierce.  That mind
must be willing to leave
tangled the involute—
those jagged-edged
intertwined indigo-tinged-
with-violet leaves
riotous in the least wind
their crumbling brown
chaos of after.  

That mind must see past
the wall of thorns
curving like teeth
dive in as if a bloody
ocean were
desirable.  

It must accept the broad
sky dried by sun
and the shade of thicket
dark as blueberries
staining tongue.  

That mind must crave storm
crawl through thunder
clasp lightning
to reach a body dappled
purple underneath
the sweet plum tree
its leaves rusting burgundy
and kissed by snake
undulations.  That mind
will dance in monsoon
lick its lips
in drought.