House of Cedar, Rafters of Fir

Comfort me with apples; for I am sick of love
          —Song of Solomon

scent of myrrh on the handles
            when oil is in the lock
silken is his mouth
            when he is hard upon me

young heart, green bed,
            his fingers are in the stream
he eats of the bitter honey
            the sweetness of cherry

sacrament of the blood
            and of its winding
sacrament of arrival
            and of its binding

expert in earth, eager in flesh
            he falls upon me and feasts
the watchmen have not seen him
            nor the owl in her nest

his darkness at noon
            among the white buildings
a hand that was stone
            builds the inner temple

sacrament of what is written
            on the table of the heart
blueness of the wound
            where he has placed his kiss

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