China Doll

Lest you think this site is only about the elemental, here's a love poem:

Like the wrapping of thread
around a dowel of wood,
you wrap yourself around me,
threads of silk on your arms
as your fingers play with my hair.
Your crescent lids speak to travelers
of clothes sold in a sweaty shop,
your days and nights alone and tired,
broken from lack of affection.
You help me select the best bargain
of shirts, pants, socks, and pajamas
from a storehouse of experience,
a shred of joy woven by hand
into the pattern of your face.
Night after night of rapture
speaks louder than a thought,
a kiss more content than a verb:
your polished skin and jade eyes
deeper than words ever go.
Soon we will no longer love,
separated by the great divide
of vast oceans and many lands.
I will carry you in pictures,
souvenirs, and mementos
across six thousand miles,
six thousand years of culture,
to reach my native land.
There you will live in dreams
of dragons, bats, butterflies,
a little doll in a corner shop.