The Princess Resurfaces

What is an Inca princess
doing this far north?

I ask myself
before I drift off to sleep like an iceberg.

The seals gallop
in their forest,

and someone’s left a trumpet
in the vines.

Didn’t her people
retreat into the mountains?

It takes a stone rocket
for that kind of circumnavigation.

Sleep-stuff
leaves a thickened resin.

Her bare thighs
adorned with an unbearable scent.