or read on for the poem's text
Surrendering to your feet, I glided back,
Inscribing orbits round your upright spine.
My fingers learnt that hair is thick and black,
Obeyed strong arms to spiral, realign.
Nostalgia lies, but never you, with eyes
Which watch and know, which shine like port. Your grin
Has anchored all you’ve loved – no compromise,
Imprinted like your face, your shape, your skin.
The silence you control is rich and bare.
The ivy’s yours. Your mind is quick, your soul
As slow as beech, as smooth, as gold. Your rare
Kinetic love unmakes and makes the whole.
Estranged so long, these things that won’t abate
Remain: your face, the truth, your soul, and fate.