You are my orchard
And I am the apple;
You are my court
And I am the gavel;
You are my fishnet,
Trapping my salmon
Pink, anadromous,
Under your trident.
You are my bread
With spread raspberry leavened;
You are my harp’s head
And I am the chords,
You: Calliope, Erato,
Terpsichore, and I am
A new murmillo, absorbed;
We dance and we pause
While wild a world billows,
Resist the red pillows
And red-fonted clause
In a river once thawed.
You are X upon X
And I am your ink,
We wake from our trance
And bleach their gold sinks.