(At The Crooked Dog)
At dawn, into the town I ride
I’ve aged a thousand years.
And here she comes, my erstwhile bride
And sings to me in tears:
My dove-gray steed
Show me what I need
Go! Wade in the seas
But to your mane pay heed.
I tell her, buried
in sadness and unease:
Your dove-gray steed
Has shown what you need
And waded in the seas
But to his mane paid heed.
The moon has sent the pumpkins into bloom,
so huge and yellow, candle-lit inside
Only your breasts shine brighter in this gloom
Until my palms their luminescence hide.
Pressed into you, my body tight with yours aligned
Against the tree, my hair with mistletoe entwined
My arms like branches tangling around you
My legs the tree trunk, split in two.
An oaken creature, palms of bark, like wires
Trying to snare the stubbornest of dryads
And rustle his way quietly inside.
Then giving in, your head falls back, my bride,
And for the longest time you look up at the skies
Where the moon's face, like a bloom, still shines.
I kiss your neck, engraved with ancient marks
Inflicted secretly by someone else's blade.
Then touch my trunk; the same marks there are made
And you get smeared by searing, coal-black sparks
DREAM OF A CREEK
I dreamed a creek that teemed with slender trout
Your calves besieged by fins, like tiny oars.
Opposite shore, I heard the others shout
I would have chased them, not knowing they were yours.
Young boys they were, from clay house near this spot
That used to take you on the threshing floor:
Ruthless and rough, they always wanted more
Flooding your buttocks, too swift and searing hot.
You stood in the stream. I wished to beat their hide
But then I waded in, feet swift with lust
And suddenly, you're virginal and white
Now don the roughest chaff I must
To feel your body on the hard clay floor
Like in a grave, you with me all the more.