We were on Lokrum, at the FKK,
me naked on the rocks and you a girl
Serb-Muslim Sarajevan, with no bra
but safe green knicks, watching the day unfurl,
so near, but silent, waiting for the bar
to lift somehow. I took my blue sarong
and gave it to the air to float then cling
to you expectant there. So loud the song

of blood began to surge, the tidal vault
to rise, like Leda under Zeus\'s wing,
so soft the touch, so violent the jolt
imparted to your belly, soul and heart.
O Mirjana, that day Love\'s lightning bolt
joined us for life - just death could make us part.