By Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill
Your body an island
in the great ocean.
Your limbs spread
on a bright sheet
over a sea of gulls.
Your forehead a spring well
mix of blood and honey--
it gave me a cooling drink
when I was burning
a healing drink
when I was feverish.
Your eyes
are mountain lakes
a lovely August day
when the sky
sparkles in the waters.
Flowing reeds your eyelashes
growing at their margins
And if I had a boat
to go to you
a white bronze boat
not a feather out of place on it
but one feather
red feather with white back
making music
to my self on board
I'd put up
the soft white billowing sails: I'd plough
through high seas
and I would come
where you lie
solitary, emerald,
insular.
take me there jenny says you don't say snapshot
~~home~~