I ask to see your face and you show me darkness
and you show me an autumn leaf trembling in the moonlight.
I stand on tiptoe.
I touch you to my brow.

Is this where you move in?

Sometimes I feel like a cage of twigs in which an eagle wakes
and yes my senses reel from the savagery of your cry
from the storm and reek and fury of your love
from the battering of your wings.

Sometimes I feel like a house of grass in which a wind is rising.
Now I feel gusts of you tearing at my walls
scattering handfuls of chaff and paper
rattling the windows
loosening the locks.

I see two bodies forming in the shadows
two naked giants
male and female
and the sacred light of lust is in their eyes
and they come together like a mighty rush of waters
and how beautifully and violently they couple in the dust
and how the foundations shake!

How long can I contain you?
How long contain the wildness of the music
the soaring of the screams?

What am I?
Am I the bed through which the river flows?
Am I the song of the stream?

Ah November!
The leaves are fallen from the peartree.
Again the moon grows full.