a hidden language, sovereign,
moves through me, wolfish and flowery.
it whets my desire and pulls me (deeply)
into its age-lost keening, crooning
promises of rain.

I pray for feast.
I am heart-famished;
verdant-tangled, moon-noosed;
trying for the mountaintop, howling,
heaving from Hope's soot!

thunder-bludgeoned, wind-wrought,
I am helplessly besotted
by the beast in my blood.
Burning for sky's slightest touch,
I imbibe nightclad silence,
and dream deep its silken tongue...