Sunday, 26 April 2009
Here, for you, a long slow sky at first;
feel it open you up like water to thirst.
Bring this morning to your snow-dead toes,
to each body part a meditation in coming to terms.
Take next a sliding acceptance of horseback,
feel the horse's own gait through your spine and relax.
It is my gift to you: use it as a distraction,
perhaps, from anything else, from preoccupation
with the facts. You've shut your eyes by now,
I can tell. Feel my fingers up your spine.
I'll count the hairs I've raised there one by one
whilst you escape the panic of a striptease
of feelings straight to bone. Stay with me, I still
have a few things to offer. Ignore the voices
out of reach through the white noise; don't fish it
for the one you think you know. Let me shiver you
out of dreaming alone. There, you can speak now.
It’s so good to see you. There's a lingering smell
of pine-damp picnics whenever you're ready.
Eat until you're full; don't stop until your cheeks
match the colour of a shepherd's delight.