Fruits of the Cosmos

I forget now
The streets we once memorised;
Were they narrow and noisy
Crowded out in star and shade --
A velvet Hades in summer's night?

I remember how
Palm trees seemed to move, though,
By any merciful wind under duress
Lining the cobbled lanes
Like a litmus test,

But were they ever as curved
As the line of your dress?
Every corner turned as uncertain
Or each brick as red
As your lips when breathless?

Was night ever pressed as hard onto skin
Marking a palm print to tred,
As our bodies pressed against
The shadows senseless
In overload?

In this battle of body and souls
Burning without smoke
But filled with steam; a Greek harem
Of sauna rooms in where
Dipping here and there,

The cold lay down bare
And the heat rose in the air;
Small flames licking
At our voices touching
At our intuitive choices

Harmonised in the dark;
Bright blindness as we came
To the light; quivering
Of moons so full
We left their buds flowering

In their opening; fruits of the cosmos
Bursting in skies in bloom;
The secrets of its soil
Only fertile when the seed
Lies deep in its womb.

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