Sunday, July 10, 2016

Tuck you behind me, an ear listening

I would that I could be the wisps of hair on your face,
That I could cross your cheek like a waterfall tumbles down a hill
Tuck you behind me, an ear listening
when I fall for you,
We are water and rock, roaring
Our spray-- misty rainbows and lime-colored mosses

I would that I could be the sweat that gathers on your brow,
As you swing a pickax
I would salt you and taste the sweetness of sweat in the quake of earth and dirt on you
I just wanted to say quake
Because it’s what I do
I quake
I quiver inside of your jagged thoughts
I love the ripples of your belly like water skipping beats across the heart-shaped pond of my stomach
I’m shallow in this
I wade in at night, in stolen time between seconds ticking on the clock
Where I might meet you in dreams of barefoot stillness
waters like glass, stars amid blackness, winks on the ground
Your arms are long enough to reach across a dreamt-pond to let me hold onto you
then you pull me up mountains: post holing and gasping
I pull you into dreams: ethereal, drenched, and panting
I feel your rhythm in my hips, we sway and dip, sultry as we are
You feel my words in your hollows, sinewy and inviting
 But the second hand moves
I wake
You move
I move on
It is day.