NOLI ME TANGERE

She says
don’t touch me
only one more step left
one firm stride
before she reaches the water.
Don’t touch me. And she drops down.
Moving lightly
she sees her shadow
grow on the bottom.
Don’t touch me. Nipples float
surprised by specific gravity
reaching for the bull’s eye of the sun
and everything she touches
ripples behind her as though behind a stone
for no more than two
or three perfect circles.
Don’t touch me
she sinks and prays for limpness
to weaken the mechanisms of thought
and calm the flesh
as after lovemaking.
Don’t touch me
don’t touch me because I haven’t yet risen
from under the heaps of water with which
the world can’t fool me, and all that brown
above her head opens into a sea anemone
crowned by sentient anemones
her center opens.
Under the water
everything thinks
like she does.
The fish enter and exit her
as if among themselves
and she continues to hold her breath
inside.
For I still haven’t risen
she says
and everything she says is completely
lucid.
She has no breath but she
won’t rise until someone comes and takes
a snake of fire from his lips
and she believes
that he will love her forever.
Don’t touch.

NOLI ME TANGERE