only the hair of long black eyelashes

flashing naked for his eyes:

a mist of wanting gathered

a black-ice loneliness between them:

she loosened the blue gown

and lay bare before him

a smooth miracle of dawn

a silent shingle of lights—

so they hid themselves

in a winding sheet of passion

in a little hut of shaken walls

she wore a black satin gown for him once

the flow of her hips a poem of night

moving in a dusk of her long eyelashes

standing they held a greeting kiss

murmured of the ritual to come

she lay waiting for him

lifting the black satin

gleaming over a white navel

she drew him in with familiar sheaths

they lay in a room of blood-rose shadows

hearing many clocks in a music of bronze

in flesh tones of a cool vesper twilight

slowly they moved into storm and drums

into a whirl of changing light-spokes

her white torso lost in satin shadows

sank in a moan of white blossoms

in a falling sheen of black moonlight

She Held Herself a Deep Pool for Him

she held herself a deep pool for him

and the shadows crying for him

he gathered himself in many dark waters

and the shadows crying for her

they took each other in shadow meetings

they held themselves in shadow songs

she coiled herself around him

with a ribbon of glass

and a rope of gold

the coils of her cunning held him

with rings of golden glass

with a moon of melting gold

with a mist of sunset ribbons

An Interwoven Man and Woman Talked

An interwoven man and woman talked.

The mesh of a red rose held the man.

A moist evening dew beheld the two.

Their speech was in even vocabularies.

Their voices comprised several violins.

The lights of changing weather were there.

They talked of kingdoms, empires, republics.

They spoke of mice, dice, republicans, democrats,

How stars may be foiled of grand desires,

How love may be wept over as an abstraction,

How black velvet may suddenly transfuse

With tracks and spatters of red blood,

How fate waits at a door with a white finger,

How beautiful children become drab vagabonds,

How the coin of life comes willy-nilly,

How Jesus was not ashamed of miracles.

Troth Tryst

There is a troth between us.

A troth means we are to keep

a tryst.

A tryst means we shall drop into

a dappled sea together.

The sea is a grand smooth clamor,

bitter with fish, drowsy with dream

blossoms.

Offering and Rebuff

I could love you

as dry roots love rain.

I could hold you

as branches in the wind

brandish petals.

Forgive me for speaking

so soon.

* * *

Let your heart look

on white sea spray

and be lonely.

Love is a fool star.

You and a ring of stars

may mention my name

and then forget me.

Love is a fool star.

* * *

Hellcat

He had arguments about a woman.