Extraordinarily naked, as you are,
you occasion delight in extremis.
I’m nettled—like a stallion.
I fidget, damnably, starting.
No vulpine seducer, I quit all tweedy sports
in favour of your kiss—
a Champagne that shimmers inside me.
To rest upon your alabaster breasts—
O Pagan beauty,
with the honeyed, sunny laugh—
is to have salmon as you give salmon,
and to taste the sweetness of its spawning run,
a river of honey
amid naked chalk.