Put a pair of long throated pants beneath a full blushing skirt.
A march is different from a waltz and to mix the two is not enough.

My beloved has laid me down in sweet breathless clover and I have
Drawn the cursive lines of disparity over each bleeding inch of skin.

The stars hide from the city and so they tie banners in the park.
For two weeks, long lines of gaping strangers are missing something.

A war is won by those who hide their injuries best. Re-lace the boot
To hide the missing foot, sew the lips to hide the missing teeth.

O my dove, my love for you is deepest when you are farthest away.
Let us then be only written to each other. Beholden, but never held.

____

I only saw The Gates in Central Park once, from a taxi window. Now they're gone. See also "Song of Solomon" and Adrienne Rich's "Ghazals: Homage to Ghalib."