nature-lover

bridleway veins, the path to his heart
lips are bowed like humble ploughs
my stomach full of love rumbles.

hilly cheekbones synchronise
form green-brown contours
beside peat-bog eyes.

grassy hair is overgrown
at home in the wilderness;
a kinked, not hostile environment.

brown-bowl eyes are shining earth,
sun reflected in mud, and a small
archipelago of muscle at the elbow.

it's the shape of a kidney bean.
two dots, 'x' marks the spot
underneath each bog.

but where are the fault lines?
i suspect they lie with the land,
just short of blood ties.

he came to me from the forest
with firefly eyes so deep to hold
a cup of my moonflower-love.

more owl eyes, woodland creature
life. are they a conduit?
contradiction or compass point?

he will forage in the forest
flying into flurries of firewood
and food. i will indulge,

smother myself in scottish
strawberries and soil, learn the
practical skills of co-operative toil.

see his sharp shins, see his
tender thighs, oh! see me sigh!
he has orange leaves for eyes

and a purple swirl at the
stomach. his mind crackles,
each brittle leaf an idea,

cherished but rejected in the end.
blobs of autumn mustard
scatter energies in every direction.

we have the sensation
of those leaves, caught on
a crisp, woody breeze.

he came to me from the forest,
lucky for us we're both
tangled in branches.