Drunk as drunk on turpentine

　　From your open kisses，

　　Your wet body wedged

　　Between my wet body and the strake

　　Of our boat that is made of flowers，

　　Feasted， we guide it - our fingers

　　Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -

　　Over the sky's hot rim，

　　The day's last breath in our sails.

　　Pinned by the sun between solstice

　　And equinox， drowsy and tangled together

　　We drifted for months and woke

　　With the bitter taste of land on our lips，

　　Eyelids all sticky， and we longed for lime

　　And the sound of a rope

　　Lowering a bucket down its well. Then，

　　We came by night to the Fortunate Isles，

　　And lay like fish

　　Under the net of our kisses.