I am the wrong
way round, my north,
your south, my up,
your down, your Krone
my Crown. My dark side,
your light, my loose,
your tight, your arse
my face, your paradise
my place. My trees
line your sleep. Your sleep
leaves my trees. I sail a
counter-clockwise water,
your moon's a
measurable daughter.
It's your gift, my loan.
Your terror cove, my home.
Your page, my mouth.
My north, your south.
Chris Price (Reading, Inglaterra, 1966). in England. Poeta y editora.