Venere

And now, for me, the sun has come out,
to puss and puzle with my skin. Why not
feel it on yours? - let it flow
into pores and slashes and lashes,
tacit, inturned. I want to
take this near-blank sheet and draw
on it, if you take this brush and
paint. I want to be the baptist ... in
water, earth and fire. Play
quiet. Be beautiful. You let words
things grow, a skein of thread,
the needle held finger to finger guiding
slowly through the ... the open mouths
of rough-hewn fabric.