Your Deepest Currents

(a quatern)    
Your deepest currents wash me clean, your well
Stirred up, pulled tight and wrought, the rope, to draw    
Your sweetest cup, that sought, brings mouth to bell    
Shaped lips that bare the lush weight without flaw.    
    
The lips that rise with meld of strain and joy,    
Your deepest currents wash me clean, your well,    
As every muscled moment gains employ    
Those spaces stretched with thirsting thoughts’ impel.    
   
Our graces raise and fall, that fill compel,  
Once rain has rivers loosed to banks’ exceed,    
Your deepest currents wash me clean. Your well    
As opened full, to all I give, concedes.    
   
Now lingered swift, our thirst will quell no wait,    
So wave on wave breaks from our storm-spurred swells.    
With froth and blust’ our torrents crest your gate,    
Your deepest currents. Wash me clean, your well!