Drumming in shale and soil, we swallow the earth,
stuck in our throat for so long as we face the rising sun.

Burning oil of ancient time, waxing vernix new,
we arch to the cosmos in every dream that brought us here.

Drenched with the song of tomorrow’s lullaby,
we dance in the dark storm of ourselves.

Gur of screaming, shouting, crying ritual,
Soul Circle of Ceremony – our sky swells to you.

I go to kill you today
in your red dust arena

hush into the ring
soft shoes creasing

unsheathe the blade
blinding keen in sunlight.

You appear with skinned shins 
a moult of fizzing anxiety

back rippling already with
blue-eyed wounds weeping

entry sites crusted, dagger-flexing
semaphores of previous lovers.

The final gore is mine, you amarillo
but there is a twisting reminder

of our time in the womb,
swimming in each other’s memory

limbs tangling in amniotic amnesia.
You are so near that I feel

the moist of your begging
or am I the one begging now.

Cupped flame of sunbeams and snow.
Cosmic power of renewal.
Oak sap rises to kiss your fingers.
Spring tides bathe your feet.

You are sketched moon – fractured sun,
first flower of spring in a Druid’s fist.
Born between two thresholds,
you hold the hand of all labours.

Our Mary of the Gael,
we tie magic ribbons and rags
to your holy wish trees,
sing songs over ancient rivers.

Protector of poets, smiths, healers,
we kneel before your mantle of stars.
Brigid, carried from Iona to Bethlehem,
you inhale the dark – exhale the light.

We dream ourselves young
in the shadow of an afternoon’s growth,

fight the invisible, suck sour milk,
feast with intimate urgency.

I bathe your eyes with tasted rain,
spit-lullaby you whole,

kiss all your edges with an enthusiasm
that leaves my lips bleeding.

Time twists a sharp nib anticlockwise
to write bloody my masterpiece.

But I sing until your throat feathers,
heart rivers and kidneys roar.

There is no wax for the seal of surrender,
a blackened sun and songs that fall at your feet.

I am battle – I am Crow – I am yours.

I knew you would come,
invincible sun.
Rebirth from darkness,
clocks burn and turn.

Stone singing ancestors
face the same sky.
Mistletoe glows,
fiery ankles feast.

On the darkest day,
Jupiter and Saturn kiss.
Fingers frosted blue,
trace ancient nights.

You offer me the veiled
chalice of begin.
I crawl out of winter’s cave,
newborn in your sight.

Squinting at your song,
written in the trees,
I knew you would come,
invincible sun.

Taken.
Taken for granted.
Taken to the dark.

Sleeping underwater,
sleepwalking naked,
dreaming of you.

When the birch bled,
you borrowed my eyes,
put them in my open palms
and said see, see now
 — and I saw.