She Spat Pomegranate Seeds...

She spat pomegranate seeds on my lap

and kissed me like a sweep of cushions and breakers

grasped me with both arms and said 'i'll take you'

I followed up a hill and as the old poets say, we walked the best of roads

under her clothes a treasure of breast and belly

i couldn't say no, she had no breath to say yes

as I held her upon her mound

hilltop of morning star, and little freshets

i am leaking like rusty old pipes

that had forgotten plumb line

entrenched in this spirit level

she spat pomegranate seeds on my lap.