PAINT-BRUSH HANDS

The girl has paint-brush hands
She loves the breath of sunrise
Trees shape her with blades of silk
Her back bathes in marble

The girl has rope-braid hair
She loves the salt of semen
Ghosts trace her with battleships
Her neck smells of winter

The girl has storm-cloud eyes
She loves the still of midnight
Light finds her through memories
Her skin lifts cathedrals