Drunk as drunk on turpentine

From your open kisses，

Your wet body wedged

Between my wet body and the strake

Of our boat that is made of flowers，

Feasted， we guide it - our fingers

Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -

Over the sky's hot rim，

The day's last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice

And equinox， drowsy and tangled together

We drifted for months and woke

With the bitter taste of land on our lips，

Eyelids all sticky， and we longed for lime

And the sound of a rope

Lowering a bucket down its well. Then，

We came by night to the Fortunate Isles，

And lay like fish

Under the net of our kisses.