Wet welling from earth  .  .  .
Deep valleys, hills, sweating *******,
  .  .  .  I plung into her.


We are lost at sea  .  .  .
In moonless night our soft cries,
Curled waves drowning us.


Above her in bed  .  .  .
Little breaths lifting our bodies,
Eyes, fingers, dreaming.


Her green eyes are set,
Jewels from sargasso seas,
My ghost ship is wrecked.


Her long hair tangles  .  .  .
No struggle in rising— then,
  .  .  .  We are rapt in bed.