Blasphemy

Browsing through souvenirs

I am reminded of you.

The door to the past swings open

releasing sleek eels of memories

where I am nothing or at best

a trembling leaf lost on a autumn breeze.

Do you ever think of me?

See me in constellations pressed against the sky,

hear me in the surge of the tide?

I would seek comfort in the moon but I am

so trivial and he is taken by the stars.

In dreams my tongue is a crimson snake

Hungrily flicking the skin of your thigh

curling around the catch in my throat.

He is god and has named me regret.

I close our door with pried fingers.

I’ve given up on prayer hands.

Art by Rita Hardy

You Can Tell Me

Tell me how you pass the hours.

That slanted smile,

does it hide shackles of pride

(I have mine too).

You are my obsession,

undulating sensations that

can’t be restrained.

What I know of you

I have learned  through osmosis,

the taste of ozone, like breathing air.

In worldly dreams I am wearing leather

waiting for you in a Parisian cafe.

Is there shame in what we  are compelled to do?  tell me

 

 

art by Michael Garmash

A black spell night

Drawn by possibility

I am at war with resistance,

A desperate allure of words

becoming flesh.

The tender momentum of hands

ignites a perfect fire  on taut  boughs of

willowy limbs  powerless   to undo a black

spell night.

Come dawn I am a periwinkle

at your pillow,   pale petals of desire

bending to what is golden.

 

 

innocensedawn at pinterest

 

Blue Bird

When I spread my wings

I can feel the pull of freedom.

I spread them wide and trail

my shadow the way birds do.

Your hands are elegant thieves

and your words a web of lies

that shine right through.

What is real or an illusion

in this desperate nest of chaos

where I found you?

When the veil falls apart and

the daylight slivers in  I can see

the slant of sky where you slipped in.

 

missing pieces

In this carapace

there is no room for life

where high windows open to emptiness.

Below the dark,  when I am dreaming,

searching for that missing piece to make

me whole I see us

disembodied desire among the reeds.

My shiver of eyes search for what we were

in the seas  dark murals where  when I

catch sight  I  Could se right through us.

 

confessionals and currency

Sheer scarves cover

a bed side  lamp

as night slips in on tiger paws

the swaying beams of a velvet

moon drift through  veils  of lilac tulle

Her egg shell limbs are  caught

in binds, her breasts alert gazelles

she is the red of womanhood

her eyes the shade of currency

Her mind is  his confessional

and there is no sin grave enough

 

 

Autumn fruit

When I was just a shy girl

and you a blonde haired boy

we raced through wheat fields chasing.

Suddenly serious your adventurous

eyes  made me  shiver and your hands

stroked my body for no apparent reason.

I longed for your touch anytime and

kissed you open mouthed without permission.

I adored your mock anger when I hid away

and made you find me and the way you quickly

looked away when caught staring.

Autumn threw its shadow on sprouting

wheat  where we lay naked smooth and wet.

Now I always knock before I enter your

reading room and you softly close your book

and pull me to you fierce, tender,

and unafraid.

 Art by Rob Heffernan