poem number 10 from saltmilk

… do you love me, woman it is cloudy in this street as that sandalwood perfume stretching between our arms here everything of it is gone with the floods and good you are the only tree left behind and love is the dewdrops even the axe that cuts them into pieces, remains a noble soul falling slowly from the last leaf to the bare ground of mire somewhere in the mist behind the bridge a brain is smouldering with the request to return this soul to its former position and retains its fragrance in the trap, unaccompanied thinking about a lover is sweeter than kissing because love is not feeling and I cherish that moment in itself when I am alone but through a subsequent passage that’s why I illustrate your perfume filling the dig we create woman, do you still love me I’m one of the connexions, though really why it should be, after all, is none so apparent your body is a cloth I wear in this cold weather I’m struggling with my broken left leg…