June 15, 2012

poem 189 of a poem a day for 2012

"Doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love". (Act II, scene II, Hamlet) William Shakespeare

she had worn a white dress

I love fire
I love sex
I love drinking luminescent desire
to get somewhere in surrender
to get into a magic
that cannot ever be subject to the clocks
as we humans blind ourselves  
to see every day as something
scheduled for the future

what of the fae who fly
and of the satyrs
that hide behind trees
and shrub berry ripening
where the bark rubs
near the biting
in the sinking teeth of the wind
and time with its milliard tiny knives
is carving every initial
you’ve ever known to be you
into the typography of scars
that mimic
the spun maps of a star’s
memory hardened
by wisdom of distance
from every lacerate pain
we’ve gained a moment with
turning morning into infinity

when the muslin fine weave dropped
it fingered me into white raptures
rounding each curve
that her skin unfurled
as if her little laughters
were building sublime monuments
I was meant to bend
my will towards
pouring forwards
as if life could be bottled
could be quenching stayed
forever in wet clay
on a potter’s wheel
and all that is between us
is how our hands feel
what forms a chance taken
to sate a thirst for more


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