perfecta

your body-
the curved smell of white soap,
the tangle of your pale skin.
and you've got winter in your eyes-
ice flowers on your mouth.

it's nothing but some radiation,
nothing but a little
             forgiveness-
reconciliation;
your hips like gunpowder,
explosive down the street...

cowboy, flick off ash, and
become, in the summer breeze,
perfect.