there’s a memory in my mouth / or else that forward thing which we tend / to call fantasy but I know it to be / other, no invention but a sly pale green / glimpse of a clearing, light / at the centre, & one day it will come 

-- or rather I will come to it & the soft thin / grass will feel familiar as the skin / at my throat where last night you placed / one hand, gentle but firm /

Between my legs, an answer / thought vanishing giving way for other / states which don’t have words / which come / in the form of / oracles, hallucinations, red / poppies in the clearing, a well / & sun so honeyed it washes over me like violins / kissing turns soothsaying / bliss lets down like milk / the tree blooms / & something like God swoops in / dark & light / thank you I say / I dwell in visions / no pussyfooting around / & in the margins of me the reach / 

for more / more / more / the feast claims full centre stage / power & peril / everyone has their version / of how they give themselves over, as though / a warm hand was at their throat, promising / pleasure that pulls & pulls & someplace / is always out of reach, because the feast / is never about arrival but / pulling the strings so taut / you cry out to be played /

the word measured has no place / in the clearing or the mouth /

keep your -- on the -- / don’t lose your -- / we like to say / all the while

knowing full well that what life is / hungrily asking for / is all of us / fingers & teeth / arms & ass / top of the thigh / & we want to give it / we want to give in & in & in / on our backs on our bellies / we want it / we know life / is going to have its way with us / thoroughly roughly sweetly / please, we say / on our knees we beg / over & over