Pearl-Diving off Al Zubarah

I reached into the bowl of night,
my tongue’s wing bent
’round my lip, lapping
the love the blind
consider to be the colour
and taste of sight.

Trapping my heart’s gushing
in a walled garden,
my mouth filled with the fruit
of his fountain. A fathom
deep and still diving,
still counting, I hold my breath
as my throat clothes
his mountain.

I reached into the bowl of night,
my love stinging my fingers
plucking cherries scattered
like kisses pressed into wine
along his inner thigh—
a drunkard enraptured.

Trembling in the shroud
of a sigh, my heart, he leapt;
bounding the walls of my mouth,
surviving the lashes of my vagrant eye.
Wandering, I reached a tavern
set into the canyon
whose crop grows
to the sky.

I reached into the bowl of night,
and mined my prize;
laughter and ecstasy wed,
their pounding in the cavern
weeping lapis lazuli seeming
at once tears and sweat.

Blues blown, I flew
the world searching
for love and found myself
drowning in it.
His wettest finger tracing
in the air clouds collecting
on high what our desire
let linger, fell in obeisance.

To my feet shuffling
like a fool journeying
from my toes to my
patch of ginger,
in we dove, and we
emerged richer.