The Lover’s Song

Strip my body to the breast bone
Where starlings may come to cry;
Carve from my flesh a hollow home
For imaginings to come and lie.

As on my body hangs more pictures
Than on a painter’s wall,
So too does your body hang the dreams
That came before the Fall.

I walk the souk a hungry merchant
For passion and for fear;
I taste my lips to your song
For mockingbirds to hear.

I feel as if I was an ageless monk
In lives long past and dead,
Where silence took me hostage
And desire carved my prayer bed.

So now I long for sweetest nectar
As bees taste upon nature’s flower,
For I to learn the starry heavens
And be her finest lover.


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21.08.07