Deluged with the dustless air, unspeaking likeness:
you, who were the spaces between words in the act of reading,
a colour sewn on to colour, break the blue.
Single version of my mind deflected off my body,
side-altar, sacramental, tasting-table, leaf to my
emptying shell, heart with its aortic opening,
your mouth, my dress was the scene that framed
your shut eye like hands or hair, we coiled
in the lifelong snake of sleep, we poised together
against the crevice formed by death's forefinger
and thumb, where her shoulder splits when desire
goes further than the sender will allow.
Womb-encased and ever-present mystery without
release, your even-coloured foliage seems a town garden
to my inaccessible, severely mineral world.
Fragments of once-achieved meaning, ready to leave
the flesh, re-integrate as lover, mother, words
that overwhelm me: You utter, become music, are played.