Come, be the architect
of my desire
persuade your luscious
land to succour me.
Mould rock and blood
and bone and flesh and earth
and fashion passion
from the worthy clay.
Come, be my guide
across your sculpted form
guide my hands across
your open fields.
My fingers shall
palpate your subtle hills
and journey deep within
your dark ravines.
Come, eat the soul of
me and sup my wine
the power of consuming
flesh and blood
I offer no religious
sacrifice
to match this dark and
satisfying urge
I harden in your gentle
rolling hands
I soften in the
aftermath of joy
I fold you in my arms,
these loving bands,
I bind you in the
slowly darkening day.
