Sepia

I smell a storm when you change expression,
the musk of ecstatic sand-

you whisper, whisper;
intrigue, entanglements
hang heavily in the air.

The sky begins to look sorry for itself,

you come on, pressing the stored heat
of an absent sun against the soles
of my bare feet.

The dark heart of soil stirs,
a sweating, ready lover,

naked between mountain ranges;
flowers turn away, embarrassed.

I hide, a thief,
sinner in the trees,

waiting for the turn of your hips
to steal and eat your dark chocolate heart;

and I will howl
I will bleed

you will run, a river to Wrist
I must follow with one pink oar.

A liquid ache escapes,
it is gravel and honey and scotch;
I cannot control my mouth.

You are the colour to conquer me-
root in the grainy pulp of fertile earth
and lay claim to a kingdom of one.