Published in Issue 16 of Visionary Tongue, 2002.

The Forest of Dark Wine

I came to the forest,
The purpling trees,
I sought the eternal
And saw endless seas
Of poppies blood scarlet,
Anemones blue,
I paused ‘neath the branches
And rested by yew.

The day soon surrendered,
Celestial light
Painted the forest
In amethyst night,
And there in the woodland
Among the wild thyme,
A wolf came, of silver,
His breath kissing mine.

Under the moonlight
He slipped from his pelt
And gazed in enchantment
The forest to melt,
We came to a field
Full of deep meadowsweet
A mosaic of longings
That clung to our feet.

The night was wine dark,
I lay with him long,
He left me at morning
With mockingbird’s song,
His touch was within me,
His taste on my lip,
How red was the blood
That we both had our sip.

I came to the forest,
The dark, absinthe trees,
I came where my soul led
One moment to seize,
They are one together,
The man ‘neath the coat,
The wolf he lies sleeping
His breath at my throat.

The Barrows

Come with me to the field of the barrows
In the misty morning light,
We’ll wait for the moon to rise from the shadows
And paint the pale, ghost night.
Let us walk among the dead
Who sleep beneath their mounds,
Where the dead trees watch and whisper their thoughts
Upon the silent ground.
I’ll take your hand in the darkness then,
Under the leafless boughs,
Our kisses falling like juniper berries
On alabaster brows.
We’ll wait for the dawn in the field of the barrows
And talk with the ancient dead,
While owls shriek in the blue black sky
Somewhere overhead.
With morning’s silver comes the dawn
The long barrows to light,
And we shall see the mournful wraiths
Depart without the night.

Come with me to the field of the barrows
And look upon the past,
We’ll hold each other and look at the earth
Where we will sleep our last.