Embrace of  Midnight  Hours

You wash my body with water

and tiny crystals of dissolved salt.

The myrrh refused,

is now welcome,

and received with oils on skin

from rounded vials and bottles

of scented red and blue.

Rubbed on flesh is

fragrant cedar, cypress, myrrh,

and oil of Lebanon.

Tongue, arms, hands,

legs,and feet,

are motionless and limp,

stigmatized with love.

They reside here in limed spa

of striated stone,

so dimly lit by wick of lamp,

and laid out wavering candle.

I hear monotone music

of the chorus

of your beating hearts,

and the feel labour

of experienced hand.

Wrap me in the shelter of your linen

one final time

as in the womb

once long before,

celebrated

with flute and song.

When will I awake

from this narcotic state

to stir again

from my so deep,

and palliative sleep?