“Shave your baby’s chin
And set it on my breast”
Listen to you weave
Boisterously in fields alone
Fingers quick and soft
Beckoning love incarnate
To touch you
Is to touch a star
Awe stricken in dark
Under a bed of praising eyes
Love or worship
Words are all similes
When your voice
Douses me numb
My limbs are mere trinkets
To your craft
Hair raising glaze
On your flaccid back
Temple of flesh
Loosened with a prayer
Kiss me under Grecian skies
And let our hunger devour fidelity
