Call the Dead to Dance

(A Quatern)      
        
The wakes that call the dead to dance,
The morning voice that warms like sun,
Cool words that mountains rise from mists,
With seethe of whisper po’ms' desires.      
       
In motions that extend beyond        
The wakes that call the dead to dance,
The heart that pumps the love in two        
The universe extends its frame.        
       
Her buried in my one resolve,        
The mind to heart that breathes new life,  
The wakes that call the dead to dance,
A kiss that courses through like blood.        
       
I find my hands in tresses home,        
To pull her close to take me in,        
To feel in every nerve her pulse,        
The wakes that call the dead to dance.