You Have the Right
 
Colorful shirts scream in the breeze.
Red arms flail, black and yellow stripes,
green buttons, lilac and magenta
patches stab at your eyes.  Orange 
fury, sweet cerulean joy.
 
Every morning this village swims
through mist.  Cold against naked cheek,
the lake’s forgetful kiss.  Your breath
writes panting haiku everywhere,
your penetrating ears pretend
 
to hear the echo sounds of love.
Where in this cave does your bed lie?
Whose sweaty hands rub against your
silent, varnished door?  Anything 
you say may be used against you.
 
You have the right to remain a
lost voice sailing sweet 
over water, diving seaweed blind 
past coral reef, or burrowing 
deep beyond emptiness, into silent earth.