for Angela

across the race
an otherness is in place

in birds and animals
the same two variables

in wildflowers and weeds
the same two breeds

so admirably distinct
as to be finely linked

in our own foolish race
a beauty is in place

an honour that is most
manhandled and most lost:

to know the privilege
it is, to cross the bridge


it is long since
I lost and found my sense

in that pure circumstance
in the dear entrance

to thought, words, music
to Dame Nature’s physic

to a song of time and place
to a travelogue of the face

to the body’s marathon
the fine muscle of women and men

to all the tribal array
to a great firework-display

to a billioning mind
to the Earth-brand


we have gone by
in few words, a far way

a word past compromise
is ours to ask, refuse

or receive in wonder.
On a crisp day in winter

I have come to lay my head
upon your sofa-bed.

Do you hear the night’s demand?
Come to me by mind,

come to me by body
my hostess, my lady,

come in love’s sweet sense.
Come to me in innocence.

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