How Fragile

how fragile
is the ticking of fingers
on a handful of flax
when the mouth
and its tulip tongue
shrifts its whispers

and the pernickety night
counts blessings
under its soft moth breath

and the shadows are
the colours of lullaby

then when
there are startled stars
pinking in space
like spicks of distance

and the world rolls
over
itself, folding and folding
it will be
your birthday

under the coverlet
where lovers
press themselves like flowers

From the book Love Poems