Oh God, is what i said,
Perhaps screamed, at that
moment your warmth split me.
Full again, i felt love.
The way the first woman
felt the first man. In Pressigny,
you take me, my pale dress
you lift, the French air heavy,
the lifting heat, fields redolent of
wheat. You whisper hot to my
neck in a language - not this
je te veux, je veux te  baiser-
-- kisses speak a foreign
tongue, secret language
and again, i take you too me,
this old house filling
with the sounds
of my love.With the
No's! the Uh-huh,
with the Yes and the Please,
of the things that i see --
this Pressigny afternoon.
i hear the church bell toll
and the sounds of children
andsoon the cool, grey
courtyard fills with
the sound of this love.