the wet mouth I
could not discern
whether rain
rolling berry-like
into me or
your sugary lather
on my flesh.
nor differentiate
my red thighs
and the grass
curling soppy and jewel-like
around me, which
blood-thundering limb
yours or mine;
the long love-clustered bough
booming
with the deep sap-thrush,
bursting in the loam,
and the sound of wild sighs.
