You are a small gold leaf blown over warm earth Like a kiss- Content at rest But if you had these eyes, then you would see See him sitting in the arms of an apple tree She will hold him with every other seeking bliss For he is a wandering cuckoo in an unfamiliar nest, Surrounded by bitter spheres If emerald, they watch, blinkless, cold and veined If crimson he fears stigmata's hold; Palm outstretched and strained to receive his share of blood Wrist stud nearly tearing, fiercely threshed- Nervous in anticipation of more pierced flesh If Cupid will tell of directness And steadfastness of hands through surging hearts, Then you would be like that arrow: A sketch of his desire while still he stays caressed in bark-skinned curl Fingers still stretched But his fist closed around a different mark of nature Scattered beside him lingered frozen dew Where he joined every apple, cast down- Hoarfrost-white veil blinded him to you While feeling sun touch skin he turned, trapped in Amber Turned Like you, leaf, slowly flipping over, dozed Before you skipped away from the orchard Her blossom, his fall And, choking on greed and ecstasy, he He should have known that not all acid is citrus