the blue word slips and knocks down my hips
and rests where you grab them
baby
my marrow opens at the sound
i am all pilgrim, with your pearls in my mouth and your saint-sweet palm
girdling my waist
darling
word coloured by early-morning white-gold, white-teeth,
the altar of your collarbone beauty by the Book
i shirk my duties to stay in bed, call that its own piety,
god gave us the colour wheel and other lavish things
and my hunger becomes holy when you call on me
