And then I used to be so innocent
With the nightingales at my elbow
And the springs snapping their fingers
At the end of my arms
And an entire school of birds climbed above my shoulders
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And there were women too
With armpits full of clusters of golden grapes
And with round mouths
Who blew their songs into the reeds of my bones
Making me sing and whirl
Round all the deserts of the East
Planting white villages at every rise and fall of my feet
And thoughts appeared in my mind
As fresh and warm as the downy heads of newly born infants...
...I used to be innocent
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