Monday 29 April 2013

Alchemy


Cupped beneath you, my hand
collects your dew, smelling of
earth after Spring rain; of incense
burnt brusquely in a
bronze pot; of the deep sea
disturbed by the dark
pull of the Moon; of
blood seeping somewhere.

But your dark eyes reflect how
puzzled you are by
the alchemy of
your own body.

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