by Nicholas Fair
Yawning mouths of hyacinth;
Swollen plumbs in wine —
The wind a rushing cadence
spilt out across the night.
For her, the salted hearth does crackle
and pleasure is crowned with time —
All join the silver threaded moon
in singing her delights!
She too has heard the herald cry
in warmth and drink and song;
We share the cultured nurseries
of love beyond all wrongs.
This is a selection from the chapbook Flesh Child Turn To Mist.
Nicholas Fair is a poet and musician.