The Body
This last continent
Still to be discovered.
My hand is dreaming, is building
Its ship. For crew it takes
A pack of bones, for food
A beer-bottle full of blood.
It knows the breath that blows north.
With the breath from the west
It will sail east each night.
The scent of your body as it sleeps
Are the land-birds sighted at sea.
My touch is on the highest mast.
It cries at four in the morning
For a lantern to be lit
On the rim of the world
