I have stilled my tongue
I have been silent so long
all my words come out white…

I’ll be your baby
I’ll rest in your arms and you’ll rock me
I’ll smell
your stolen scent and hear
your damask voice
and I’ll be your baby
so you will enfold me.

I receive your damask skin,
in lines plain
and calm, an intense
balm, closewoven,

Back into my eyes, if I
got one of those looks would that
be mystic? Could that
define me, would that
be music? Look
into my eyes…


This is my cave
and this is my church.
Here are my priests,
my hymns,
my mantra.

This is my cave,
my secret private place,
and this is my church
where I touch
the One.

Fill me in. Fill me in.

(First published in Thirst)