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Poem	1 Come, let us pretend this is a ritual. This hand in your hair, your tongue seeking mine: this cataclysmic despair. Let us pretend tonight that you are mine. Forever. For when daybreak returns, we shall realise once more that forever means an empty room, a tired night swirling into nowhere, when I shore up to your tattered skyline. 2 At midnight I move in on strangers, for the caress or the kill. I have come to terms with shadows, I have been assaulted by gentler lovetimes: once in a long while a face comes near, our eyes meet in challenge, or is it love? Our bodies come alive in secret oneness: one spring ago, terrified to be touched, you draw me tonight, at last, deep within your frantic countryside. 4 The wind disentangles itself from your frenzied body as hurricanes of dreams follow me: eternity is only a river reaching towards the sea. My tongue travels to your navel, and downwards: I cling to your body, my mouth breathes in the shadow of your breath. Someday perhaps the sea will reveal itself, the delirium of the flesh fatigue at dawn. 11 It hurts to say I am sorry. So let us use unfamiliar words. The summer has gone the ground's turned cold. The old road calls me back again. Anothertime we shall meet again: as strangers or as friends, or perhaps as lovers once again. Now turn, turn, to the rain again. 15 Tonight I draw your body to my lips: your hand, your mouth, your breasts, the small of your back. I draw blood to every secret nerve and gently kiss their tips, as you move under me, anchored to a rough sea. I cling to you, your music and your knees. I touch the secret vibes of your body, I fill my hands with the darkness of your hair. This passion alone can resurrect our love.
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