Where The River Ends

I follow the pale, silken river
of your outstretched leg
from the river mouth, where
your painted toes glittered
like discarded gemstones,
to the source, where red fire
rides the sacred mound
and your splayed fingers rest
like fallen standing stones
and the scent of you lingers
heavy in the sultry air
draws me further into your
wild, like a madman lost
and here I make my camp
build a hearth, carve my name
here, I will make my home