swaying like a praying sunflower, i sometimes serenade
my shadow in her mimicry of all movement; she is me.
and i shade myself again into the backlight of a room
where i was laying right there for you and ready
to cast a glow farther than a field full of fire.flight... ....
nothing notices me, in the ever and the always.
and if i am the way you looked at me then, then i am
still; constant and craved because you ached me in a glance.
entranced by the ending that almost came.
flooded and unfolded in a frail female form.
a weathered vein of love that coursed and cursed
my body, for what it wanted to give.
and to receive. to believe. is beautiful.
and i fathom you a frightful beast but only
because of the devouring nature of your kiss.
i wore a lion's mane that swept your face
and roared with the pulsing race of your heart.
white belly that absorbed the blue sheets' last quiver
at the hour of love and eyelashes dyed true.
i slenderly pretend sleep. to stay and see myself burning
now that i hold what is left of life like a lily, headhung.
pale. there was once a little place just over the spinal column
where you traced a mountain and a river
and a heaven and a space so vast; i heldfast
to the voice of what i knew. you.
you.
familiar as a star in the bodice of a goddess
and how she weightless dreamed of more than what could be.
she; you made me. glorious. seeing the ridges of the sun
and the crown of rain that trickled a lifelong autumn.... .... ...
i still hear myself as a song among your lines and lonesome
times that tell you someday soon. spy the moon.
and tempt her face down to yours.
pull her to your temples and remind me to relive us.
when those grasses shaped like girls start sunning
and stun you into silence, remind me to sing........
..................sing with my shellshaped throat.
of all the pretty intricacies that make intimacy like poetry.
of all the eruptive tips of fingers that make looms sweetly.
of all the small things that thread the heart unbearably.
and then, when i have no words left,
i can lose everything but spirit, and still have everything
that surely must have said your name.
.
http://www.darkpoetry.com/node/work/126200
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