A swarm of dawns, a flock of restless noons.

"Her coloring was a hybrid

Of rubbed amber and the little flare of dawn rose in the kernel

Of an almond. It's a wonder to me that I have fingertips.

The knife was very sharp. The scented rose-orange moons.

Quarter moons, of fruit fell to the cutting board

So neatly it was as if two people lived in separate cities...

I would have given my fingertips to touch your cheekbone,

And I did."

-Hass