Aug 312012

by Allison Grayhurst


You and I are a terracotta river

encasing the unmanageable rock.

We drink from the cyclone fire

and fill our ears with the sounds of harps

and nocturnal rejoicing.

When I am touched and my head

is under the feather then time is

fossilised and my body is the voice

that drives me down the curve,

wide enough for an astounding fulfilment.

When I touch the core of your bones

and join the urgency of your kisses

with my own, then we are lured

from our daily plots and cast-out dreams,

until flooded and found by the golden synergy

of our married tongue.