For a time
The flecked air at the window
Cannot disturb us,
Wefve made ourselves so quiet:
My fingers
Spread on your ribs like fans,
Yours
Open over my wrist, loose as a bracelet,
Our bodies
Shapen in our sexual languors -----
Phantasms graved in jade.
This is all the wealth we have -----
Rare hours
When we know what we love best
And imagine giving it up,
As we will;
Itfs not enough