I anchor myself in your body,
man of wood, fine-grained and dry.
The veins of forests
flow through your arms.
The buds of future springs
lie curled in your heart.
The words we plant in each other
sprout.

I drift in the light of your body,
man of sand-dune and ocean.
My boats moor at your side.
In sleep we sail together;
each night takes us farther
from shore.

I fall into your body,
man of music,
into the tight gold of its singing
vibrations,
into your hills of yellow grass,
your sky of eyes,
into your oceans of deep sound.
I fall into your body –
and do not drown.