I see her take flowers away from leaves       she puts them in a round basket   the leaves are not for her      she fills the basket     she opens the grass     I would help her but the clouds are in the way       how can I say things that are pictures     I am not separate from her   there is no place where I stop     her face is my own and I want to be there in the place where her face is and to be looking at it too    a hot thing

Toni Morrison, from Beloved