No matter what happens with us, your mind
Will always haunt me: sensitive, open
He takes mine into a broad chamber where
I rise and fall to his blood’s beat,
Hear his breath move, cling and clamber there.
Do I give myself to him?
Not as a handmaiden, bitterly and slavishly
But as a child hungry for knowledge.
Then I bear him down my head’s own estuary
Carry him, ferry him to burial subliminally,
Sink into his flesh, engulfed, received by the
Soft girdle of my bones, a cave whose waves
Lave him repeatedly — until
The riving and the emergence
The expulsion and the awakening
The day, the present moment
Remorselessly calls —
Whatever happens this shall be