LOVE POEM # 10 Red Admiral

music-threads, my little bird
connects the connections
to the other connections
makes fertile soil moisten & surge
around the roots of the
telephone poles,

takes my poor head up into
the territory of my rich head,
moves my shins through my
elbows feelingly, the bellies of boats
are above our root,
the ceiling thatched
with underwear-leaves,

pillowed for every angle,
our bodies jutting
with bones in the tongue,
tongues in the bone,
quiet satisfactions that get louder
at their most
intimate ebb.