I have loved women in boots
who have around them
men wearing suits.
I have loved them in bright yellow, blue, and grey,
in the darkest evening, when
not a single owl hoots.
I have longed to kiss those tender lips,
fresh out of bed –
juicy, pulp, coloured in red.
I have longed to hold them in my arms
after they are wed.
I have held their hands
at the avalanche of civilisation;
they have clung back to familiar,
where the saints await their entry to heaven –
no sins committed.