The leaves curl ‘round your lobes, ‘round
your fair hair,
against the skin as smooth and brown as bark…
your arms are graceful and still in my care,
your sweet profile turned skyward to the dark.
Eyes writ love poems in the kenneled heart,
where my soul crouches, lupine in worship,
watching the stars and skies of silver part
to reveal the rose dew upon your lip…
The moon rises upward now, pale and new,
the moon that is now reflected on skin
that is brown - though red blood courses here
too,
the same heritage surging within.
A shroud of darkness parts, like the black
shades
of the final curtain, a crystal sheet,
and the pale sliver of light that never fades
is falling, as the stars do, at your feet.
The trickle of rivers is slowing down,
the murmur of deep-seated lakes is stilled,
the air is growing softer all around…
the beating heart is slowing, as you willed.
Your hand is laying flat without motion
against the curve of a delicate breast,
where pools are frothing now, with emotion,
though your body lies in sleepless rest.
The horizon is painted blue and wild,
the mountains are raised from trembling rock…
the naked hills are swelling round with child,
white lines, black shadow, forged a secret
lock.
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