Cupped hands under thirst.
I reach for You
from a trembling branch-
from an arched spine of prayers.
You have become the concealed sky
of a deep planting.
Everywhere there is succulence:
The interior mouth of silence and honey.
No one saw us disappear into each other.
No one saw spring-time
lift its green skirt up in anticipation
but we feel the damp thighs
of this want as it speaks
for our stunned hearts.
