|
At the foot of a forest of dark hair |
|
Is a door there and here comes the key |
|
As the grammar of one finger |
|
Forms a language of this ecstasy |
|
Where the back of her neck |
|
Meets the back of her leg |
|
Meets the back of her head |
|
Meets the back of her breast |
|
Falling further into marriage |
|
This love would need not shout its name |
|
And as the missile learns its target |
|
Where sediments should stay |
|
As the back of your head |
|
Meets the back of my leg |
|
Meets the back of my head |
|
Meets the back of your breast |
|
Meets the back of our legs |
|
Meets the back of our necks |
|
Meets the back |
|
The back and beyond |
