By my mayhem once he was brought, <br />A man speaking birds and leaves, <br />Like a black billow leading hordes <br />Of waves in their smashing heaves. <br /> <br />The rider of the reckless sands, <br />Submitting time and burying hopes, <br />Transforming fires by his hands, <br />His hair of gloom, his eyes are holes. <br /> <br />Raving winds and rains bolted in <br />Possessed by the autumnal throes, <br />They skimmed along under the skin <br />As he kissed my fingers and toes. <br /> <br />My thoughts clotted crucified, <br />Left slain in the deepest garden, <br />Sealed between the odours of night, <br />And the layers of silence, so ardent. <br /> <br />Forbidden fruits ripened red <br />Behind the lids, in the eye-globes. <br />He shot an apple on my head, <br />Then ripped off the ivy’s ropes - <br /> <br />Ill weeds rooting me to earth, <br />Twining my bed and my windows, <br />Hiding me blind in a curse, <br />Curving my wrists and elbows, <br /> <br />Crooking my ankles and knees... <br />He wrenched open and unrolled <br />My body into a moaning abyss <br />Edged by the torrents of gold, <br /> <br />Unshackled the tempest of lust, <br />Drew expanses of storms and seas <br />Against the valleys of rust <br />Upon the capillary trees. <br /> <br />Invisible in the water’s fads <br />The rays of his flashing sword <br />Cut through the swarms of gnats - <br />The nerves in my spinal cord, <br /> <br />The arteries brimmed with clay, <br />The lungs in their spongy swells, <br />The heart beating me astray <br />To the cross of my parallels, <br /> <br />To the point that could never be seen <br />Where my love couldn’t have a name, <br />Where the funeral fires within <br />Couldn’t make my desires tame. <br /> <br />The skull, blackened by the pyre, <br />Would stare as an empty token <br />Of love that had risen so high <br />With the smoke in the dusk of unspoken.<br /><br />Natalia Bakina<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-man-speaking-birds-and-leaves/
