Flames of fire

and raging heat

coals burning under my sheets

a gleaming flint

and a spark red hot

decide to

surprise me

in the dark.

Covers off, covers on

Sometimes I go there

just to feel you

lean my head against the tree

smell the freshness of the moss

that’s been growing

under me

slide my face against the cragginess

I admire the pot in front of me
and over it
I give it a stir
and sigh
and once again I don’t
mind the progression of time.

I stand in the kitchen
and stare out a window

I think she knew it would taste good to her

like biting in to the juiciest plum in summer

the shiny, dark purple colored one

that begs to be chosen from the bin,

there it is

Sometimes I just stand against the shower wall

and watch the tiny drops fall

they are having some kind of race

like the tears that fall from my face

warm water, warm water

then

I tend to get lost, in my pot

of rosemary

I swish and I swash

my wandering hands...

caress and undress

all those pointy strands

poeple think it’s absurd

I remember the taste of your smile
so sweetly on me
the dark blackberry of your skin
I was delicately covered in, and
the rippling muscles and honey of your thighs
and so, I run wild

I could read the sparkle in his I’s

when he gazed in mine

and the L that rolled off his probing tongue

onto me

was no surprise

and how the O made me so aware

it was honey sweet

Saturday nights after they left

I would reach high into her bureau

a tippy toed ballerina

stretching taller, touching, hoping

digging deeper,

my hands

I think about your thighs

their perfect curves

and lines

their warmth

their softness

a bit of lovely roughness

against mine.

Oh how I approve

how they move

and slide

Tonight, I will sit beside the moon

dangle my legs

over the edge,

find the perfect words

and try to write a verse.

I’ll grab my pen

and probably

write about love again.

I’m grounded

when I plunge my hands in the dirt

I never knew how much

I loved this earth

the smell, the feel

this humbling rebirth

and thankfully, I get down on my knees

How could I love you anymore than I do?

Someone blinks and the skies open

and if rain soaks me, all the better.

For I write;

I write all about it

I’d do it for you
I’d let it out
I’d scream it out
in puffy white writing across the sky
I’d set the world apart
show the way I feel
show them this love in my heart is real.

Already, I feel one of the loose

errant twigs sticking in my side

the soft fur lining is worn

and the mud had dried

so has the velvet

of the deep green moss

oh, how I am already