Cherry time. Climb the tree
and throw out the frayed days of ecstasy
the sensual touch of a snake
cool and trembling on your cheek.

Rocks, the night’s breaking point
on this map that gets you nowhere
What water will be your water of life?
What river carry you
with your hair the colour of the Nile
to my dried up seas?

How can we refind the rock that’s become sand?
Go back to the sea, cloudy in the salt of sunken ships
Come to my parched lips
with the bleached down of your arms.

Cherry time, gardens, thorny loneliness
go and be like a cloud, the boundless breadth beyond the peak
the footprints of the mountains
the small wood of junipers on the plain
sand and pebbles are ebbing away in your deep eyes

Rocks, the night’s breaking point
Now my maps are all torn up.