Can you cure me of the sun br red, embracing and constant? br br What of the horizon, distant, br balancing, doorway to the sky? br br Can you cure me of the time br Mother taught me to blow bubbles? br br What of the wild indigo, naive br and honest, cupped in my hands? br br Can you cure me of my dreams br prismatic, consuming and mad br br with forbidden kisses, illusory br spaces, sudden abundance and affairs? br br No one taught us to conceive beauty br in the fertile womb of our souls br br but just cure me of all things beautiful br permanent, diminishing and dying br br and I might face you sane br and I might stop holding my breath.