Читать книгу The Unmapped Woman - Abegail Morley - Страница 14

You grow in me. I call you petal

and your name buds on my tongue at night.

We’re spooned in sleep, skin on skin

and I purr lullabies from sap-filled lips until

your limbs purl like newly-woken shoots:

fresh leaves wait for nursing, suckling.

I name you Lily, and in the bulb of my belly

the veins of your body knit together

and you sleepwalk inside me,

make tiny footprints in blurred dreams,

trail my spine with satin feet as if you

own each and every inch of me. I don’t know

which one of us is the honey, which the bee,

or who has the nectar we drink so deeply.