christmas poem eleven

her breath
forms clouds
on a winter
walk

behind her back
i capture them
to dissolve
in my tea

ascent

in her sleep
she toblerones
the sheets into alps
and himalayas

as i undress
and climb in beside her
i am goosefleshed
and breathless
from the air
at this altitude

and for brief seconds
i know how
hilary and hannibal
must have felt

1:500

skin so pale
she becomes
the cartographer's canvas

she has veins
and arteries like
everyone else

but hers

have been twisted
by map-maker's hands
into

roads
avenues
cul-de-sacs

the B504
the M25

her flesh is full
of passengers
and magic trees

haiku 2006 three

I cannot walk past
without touching her bare skin
to recharge myself