To set my hands, soft
around your head, fingerslick
to the roots of your hair,

test the cheekbones,
trace the songlines
along your temples.

Even the stars are in quest,
night fields crackle with frost,
earth-gods arouse deepest clay.

Primed for seasoning,
Aries blazes fire and sap
through thickets of long hours,

storms what was smooth,
splits primeval fissures.
Days billow towards light.

Turn your face, the silken eyelids,
close to mine, undo
my breast shield,

mother-of-pearl incised
with fish, snakes,
a flickering firebird.

To set my fingers, soft,
across your mouth,
to open you to kisses –

sun-snood, river of light,
moon-gold at midday,
high summer in the night!