122
I hide in things my formless longing for your presence --
The melted ingots of your eyes within my tides of breath,
The silent running of the sun, the drumming chase of rain,
The prattle of the leaves against the wind of ravage.
A tiny candy taught me how your tongue is touching;
The shell I gave you helped me hold my rhythm of breath from storm
To mould your flowing steel -- my muted yearning for your voice --
And with the links of words, to chain my roaming silence.
My roads to you go through the shells of things in darkness
To form the circles of my nameless craving for your touch --
The melted ingots of your lips within my breathing tides,
The running of the sun, the rain in chasing drumming.
|