SONNET C

At the centre of the Earth I’ll split apart
the emeralds to catch a sight of you
and you’ll be copying down the ears of wheat
like a message-taking plume of water.

What a world! What depths of parsley!
What a sailboat sailing in the sweetness!
And you perhaps and I perhaps of topaz!
There’ll be no more dissonance in the bells.

There’ll be no more than the free air,
the apples taken by the wind,
the juicy volume in among the branches,

and there where the carnations breathe
we will start a garment to last out
the eternity of a victorious kiss.