.
Deep in the cups of your eyes
I drink in the high shot,
Blood of sense sacramental,
Wine and veins piercing
The after loves of morning.

Lost in the reaches of your hair
I have found belonging,
Ambrosial of lark and meadows,
Like some primordial dawn,
Awakening the first lovers.

And our bodies, broke, chalk ****,
Shimmered in ghost of live moon,
Like the one white dove loosed,
Into the holy airs of flaming hope,
Above blue tranquil seas of peace.

The ocean slid with our rowings
And the air, so sweetly uncatched,
Moaned in moist heat of breeze,
Drunk in an ever last of new hunger,
Under all the heavens we plunged.
.