Rosewood soap,Rough on the skin,Damp and pink with heat,Two candles, citrus, all natural,Burning on the windowsill,Three locks on the door, no solicitors please,And a long, chilled glass of strawberry puree,Mixed in with tart lemonade. The snow falls in thick clusters outside,Swirling and threatening to keep me inside,Ah, so be it - inside I shall stay.

A breakthrough after all,Done with the bloody tissues,Damp sick-clothes go in the bin,Strip down the very room:Curtains, blankets, sheets, pillows.A replace it with the winter collection:Dark satin and soft cotton,Like eyes closed in contemplation,Illuminated in the secret places. The fever breaks,Only a week of my life stolen,Winter welcomes me again.

She stole the sky-fire,Dripping with blue flame,Pale rivulets down,Her white fingertips,Stained black majesty,To her lips, flames licked,She swallowed the stars,and smiled ecstasy.