today I went down on your body 
while windows were thick white eyes 
and hearkened the clogged cavities
in the small darkroom of your chest, 
hedging an eternity over the aching voice 
from your gorgeous throat, 
agony and exaltation flow in one divide 
if I may make so bold, 
your thighs are a loveword your hair 
night's glittering lining of secret disport:
I aimed for the innermost moon 
and rent, moved by the syntax and the slow 
of sadness and of joy, so
I love you, love you so

when the blinding comes, 
the discomposure of silence, 
it must be high up the hills 
where hundreds of poor 
stamp their feet in the dust, and drums
and woman voices like this ululating skyline 
gag the final ecstasy