Even the blossoms blown
off in a throb of wind

so god help us
to make love with-

out becoming a plot
of fresh earth some

day the night curved
as a sky sinking

inside an eye I
walk across

a yard of fallen
apples kicking

them to reveal still-
damp flesh & hear

the feet before
the first snow fell

on our lovers
& land before

we worshipped the good
morning in a tongue

trimmed of light I lift
flowers I forgot

the names to in
any English & say

your names the way
I was taught one

after the other.