poem 149 of a poem a day for 2012

entering the veil

slowly build an arrival

mud wasp a home

hone each handle

candle lighting my way

I can smell desire

in the way you moan

in the way you pulse push

against me teasing you

arrow quiver in

slowly grind

find time stops too

here to linger

the way I do

in the salt tides'

scenting messages of more

can you give another bit of reach

so I can stay slow

and work the magic

groaning

gutteral

grabbing

blind

finger

hollers

we pull the stars into our eyes

we are the open window again

biting through skin

here we come

inside our beginnings

inside our ends

you raise your Moon

I draw down desire

and we feed ourselves

the ripe that

red riding hood basketed

so that we may bring 

inside ourselves a smile 

a whispered wise of

the crone again

EJR ©