The Nape of Your Neck –

Sullen hopes increasing Now in debt

to our Victory; What

whetstone makes for

a sudden Swallow we Merge into

this, Our hibernation – She

who can Rescue Us

beckons through the Dark

wood whispering quietly Now

linger here in

my Embrace I will stroke

your cheek with the back of my Hand

and press

my gentle Lips just there below your hairline --