V
FOREHEAD

Your forehead is the arch of the basilica
which is your body, and it is bronzed
by the warm sun; under the wide open sky
it nurtured your heavenly thoughts
which sprouted like wild flowers
—pink carnations, daisies, poppies...—
that would then have seeds to grow
new flowers, in a new springtime;
and not pearls, but shining pebbles,
solid and plain which, once they are cut,
the lapidary strings as an ornament.
Paradoxes, parables and apologues
flow freely from your mouth;
not syllogism, nor bits of logic
which bind the mind like a collar.