A sharing

   We'd talked of everything but God,love was never mentionedas we slid to the places which hides his name. You had learnt to stroke women,undress their corseted seclusion& we both thought we had a firm grip of the situation. Control passed backward and forwardlike the bass beat of an elemental ritual,it was in our bodies knowledge that we hung our surrendering. Fire meeting fire, sex meeting death,& all the people that had passed throughour fingers like dry sand. That night I dreamt a pulsing ocean,flung wide the French windows to be engulfed,in mer-men, horses swimming tidal torrent knowing the room would be drownedin salt trimmingsleaving seaweed, coloured  pictures . There is no definition of a future,by chance we met and chanceis driving the postcard where we write our names in black and white for the world to watch. Meanwhile my thighs hold your imprint,skin bruised a tattoo to stay orfade with the week’s light, our feelings an enigmawhere tolerance flames inboth our sets of eyes. Lives unravelled like dyed clothspun with invisible movements of animallongings, drying in the sun of a dawn sharing on an early morning couplingwhere the blossoms hide.