for the Vietnamese poet Ho Xuan Huong
your two pink
chinese tree peonies
roll in the breeze
anemones tasting
the sea-deep blush
of flushed cheeks
rising to the surface
and sinking, a diver
for conch shells
your two bamboo
knees knocking, opening
and closing, opening
and closing
wings on a moth's back
paper fans
in white hands
a snail winds
its trail across
your two thighs
pale sail in the night
long pearl
tongue of moon.