Marching and twisting
With the taste between your tongue
My heart flicked its
Beats and your veins
Alit as our blood raced
And overtook and won.

Turning, intrigued
At the sight
Or spite of lightening,
At the weaven leaves in the foreign forest tree
The sight of everything anew to me
And we overtook starlit ceilings
And terraced cottage roofs
Underneath us flowing rivers
And our blood, loose.