You call them love paintings,
you gave me the title yesterday
You’re sitting on your haunches,
there’s a scratched area in front of your navel
white incised lines
man-milk coming like a sun-burst
lighting her up
she looks at him with her two faces,
one inside the other
I paint both with a colour I like, it’s night mixed with day
then I paint away his face,
the one with the closed smiling eyes; now I draw them open,
yellow like an eagle:
he’s crouching beside her
his white wings poised
their chalky scent gladdens her heart
heaven dust
settles on her lips
Kate Walters