I am alone with you. 
A fire burns in the distance,
It lights our faces 
As before in the empty cinema, 
Where we arrived, at some beginning, 
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes, 
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,  
What words could never speak,
The tips of seats, rows of air 
And the moony screen, 
A tableau of feathers and cloud,
Two of us, alone, as one,
Rapt in the spread of wings. 

Later, alone we dine in the Café  
Campagne. Our conversation  
Deafens a burgeoning crowd, 
Coffee was nectar, our words  
Were whispering petals. 
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest  
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean 
In your eyes, I was cleansed  
By your tears.  I have always 
Known you. 

Across the border on the far island, 
You stepped into the waters with me 
And when you disrobed you lit the stars 
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin, 
Your slender legs, columns, tilting
Toward heaven, in the age of Helen,
Touched the water and the sky,
I saw the milky way that night. 

Síneánn, I am your Pablo, 
We are two white birds sailing 
Over the foam of the sea. 
Solvent to my stone, you are the hinge
To my casement world.  Rain petal 
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman, 
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes,
I hold your skin, my Selkie,
Sweet Niamh, I have lived  
One hundred years this week. 

It is warm in the distance,
In the country of the sun,
We end at the house in Umbria,
In the autumn, there is no word 
Siberia, my light Rosaleen. 
Now is harvest time.  
At the great table we feast  
With family and friends  
And I am not alone with you.