I pass through the fig that is your body

your compass rose

in its ripeness it owns both nadir & zenith

I pass above & beneath it

while all around

birds nest in the fig tree’s faithful branches

their milk-hands applauding wildly

as the planet plucks you

tears at your shape with its flashing teeth

 

I pass through the bell of you

two rivers converged here to mold your form

three fires sent their ancient alphabets

to serve as your clapper

the oxygen inside you is motionless

it is in love with every injury you bandage

you wear it to the throne-room

like a pair of shoes

 

& is this not all

that is the world, repentance asks

from its cage of silver bars

melted down from my life’s lost specie

the moon resting

on its brow, against which

all the armored ships of your face combine

 

such a perilous time to believe in war

with the gun of the heart

held to the head of all love finds beautiful

 

you walking out now

to feed the animals that love you, at dusk

Donate to Poetry London

Be a part of the next 100 issues

To donate, please click on the button below, or send a cheque payable to ‘Poetry London’ to Poetry London, Goldsmiths, University of London, New Cross, London, SE14 6NW, UK.

Donate to Poetry London today

Subscribe to Poetry London

Subscribe today!