Heretic

When you sang your body invented us
     an alphabet. No one heard it
          but me.

The earth in your eyes
     is the ink in your words.
          Each look writes another line.

Everything I need to know grows wings
     and lands on my skin.
          A thousand tiny plovers

cover the skies, and shine
     like moonlight on us both,
          turning us into your verses.

Last night each dot and curve of the letters of our alphabet
     came to rest on my body while I slept,
          entwined around my hips,

pulled their fingers through my hair.
     I breathed them in. Became the song
          you sang me.

You spell the morning prayer
     uttered by my lips.
          Syntax of attention

at the back of your throat. Each rise in note
     is your hand on my ribs.
          You hold me and no one can see.

Our unholy wholeness hides.
          Your name in the nearness. Says listen.
                    Sentences of rebellion

in the starless night.