Stained Glass Cantata

I want Promethean heat of summers
and the future stretching like a field with no fences.
I want dreams leaking into real time
turning darkness into a treasury of light.

I want to shut out the yammer and slam around us
gossip stretching its three necks
tongues humming like locusts
during the first Pharonic plague.

I want to shape a space for calm
and stand knee deep in Mendelssohn and Mozart
singing stained glass cantatas
under haloes of the moon.

I want to step out of windows
and drown in fire bursts of flowers
or strip the fuzz from the peach
and tongue the blush on the flesh below.

I want the feeling
that we’re quite ourselves again
resilient as earth
and moving like snails in slow motion lust
deep in the expectations of love.