.My hands take custody ofher full plump cheeks,almost as rosy as her lips.Her eyes become so blueduring the eclipse of Neptune.Gold flecks in her eyesswirl like the rings around Saturn.Her smile crashes into my heart likethe Jupiter comet bombabardment.And my heart shines like the sunwhen she calls me poppy.She wants me to read her a story...

You have ravished my heart,
my sister my bride,
you have ravished my heart
with a glance of your eyes.
with one jewel of your necklace.
How sweet is your love , my sister, my bride!
how much better is your love than wine.
and the fragrance of your oils than any spice!
Your lips distill nectar, my bride.
honey and milk are under your tongue.
the scent of your garments is likethe scent of Lebanon.
A garden locked is my sister , my bride.
a garden locked a fountain sealed.
Your channel is an orchard of pomegranates.
with all choicest  fruits,
henna with nard.
nard and saffron, calamus
and cinnamon
with all trees of
frankincense.
myrrh and aloes,
with all chief spices -
a garden fountain , a well of
living water.
and flowing streams from Lebanon.

latin can not describe the electricityof blue veins suspended in cala lily skin. they fan out,protazoic, dormant beneath a sea of iced flesh.i grip the sink, peroxide strands of kelp washing upon the banks of my shoulders likethe white-gold sunshinethat would prism behind your chinook archwith all the beauty of a nuclear winter.for the transplant of my frontal lobeto the heaven above his stratus comforter, instructionshave been written. next time he is carried in on a foen wind i am toone, stand very stilltwo, present my brain to the skyand three,wait for the apricotsof sunrise to settleinto the overcast of his eyes.i practise a little and wish i had a veinous hum, skepticalthat an electrocardiogram could detect a beat.