One more bottle, and
Something will scatter
O’er rain stained Welsh streets.
Bloody watercolour canvas
Tilts to reservoir skies.
Twilight slips over Hills
As wine sliding down a glass,
At night, mouth of valleys
Suck scree thru’ shortest straw
Eulogia gathers boned carvings:
It is not only the skin to be tattooed.
Moonlight slithers of nacre strips
Ignite your flower-thighs
Up and beyond, pricked blooming.
My bones are softly rattling
To our harmonised breathes.