If I happen to grow like a perfumed cedar among the cracks of your spine don't be surprised- the country is fertile there. Without you in it this entire country is a prison cell and I tick off the days minutes hours of my sentence. I need the abundance of your arms the gentle rain of your kisses the flooding of your tears. Let me dance like a whirlwind on your skin let me trace with my little finger the paths of my reckless pilgrimages. Adam Tod Leverton (atleverton@yahoo.ca)