I want to be chaste
and slow with you,
now.
Touching circles
from your pulse points
calling the blood up
to your surface, using my hands
to bring ease to your body
hidden here
and there, by the
edge of dark clouds.
The sound you make
is new to me, and I
think of the sound
high tide makes
at the moment
it yields to the ebb,
a sighing of sea water
under the tug
of a full moon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem