Whatever nourishes hovers between:
all the signs are ripening waves, to
revolve together into the hidden glow.
Then the fierceness must be caught:
it is burnt, we are gathered at table, quiet
while the signs now blossom a way
& we are again made separate.
Let us marry: there is hope, we know, then
in darkness now something strikes
which will be feasted on, to move us
again to burn, must burn! Listen!
Here we are locked together.
Then a sword strikes: suns pass like waves
& we lie dead:

to marry. Lions adorn (we know)
& breed from us. The forest & the waves are ours –
we walk over this hidden & you appear in darkness –
while the gods ascend silently to burn &
all movement becomes so crystalline, so clear.
Teach us, teach us now to blossom—
that is to save – but we know – (elsewhere there is no purity)
it is so casual, a bowl of suddsy water
is two children fighting. One blossoms.
The dark woods clear. We are a king & queen.
You wait, you can ascend, time is caught.
You refine us in your vessels.
The wheat ripens. From the starry sky come children.
We are given what will nourish us.