Like dust, like dusk, no, gossamer—
but only if you don't know how to look.
See my nacre-shine, get closer, 
close enough to touch. A book 
will tell you: life-long love, a follower 
of roads, the sun. I know the mirror.
We all make milk. Get closer.

Oh, how long a dove, mistook.
Swim with me, plunge headlong under 
unseen currents, lift. Breathe the real air.