Even the blossoms blownoff in a throb of windso god help usto make love with-out becoming a plotof fresh earth someday the night curvedas a sky sinkinginside an eye Iwalk acrossa yard of fallenapples kickingthem to reveal still-damp flesh & hearthe feet beforethe first snow fellon our lovers& land beforewe worshipped the goodmorning in a tonguetrimmed of light I liftflowers I forgotthe names to inany English & sayyour names the wayI was taught oneafter the other.