.
In a flower bed
Of rose and thorn,
Scarlet and green,
As we stem into one
Growth under blankets
White with joy, blue
As blood, we pluck
The petals left for us,
We tangle in thickets,
Moisted lips of heaven
Of clover and of daisy,
Milky as the wet stars,
Honeyed in the night
Hive and sumptuous
Joining, like clouds,
Opening above, we
Drench ourselves, cry
In drops, teary rains
That break, inwards,
Eyes, entwining with
Hot limbs unknotted
Till there is the spent
Wonder of skin scent,
Steeps of salt and sea,
Each leftover of touch
An outcast, a grieving.
.