Dana Ward, "Beatrice"

Beatrice,
for me you embody the waking proportion
there is no distinction in hating oppression
& loving you, I turn the idyll away.
In the blur ideology, love & the shape of your face
are entirely real.

What is this coldness between one another?
a coral pore stopped up with christening air
I will sing you a carol instead.
I will break over my head a pure bottle of prosody
then we can sail.

In eclipsing the impulse the light is just so
no, its not you in the myrtle white shroud
being utterly un-good to anyone.