Waver

Your eyes on my skin
draw me in
to a dream colored blue,
cool and calm
muted soft hues,
where hazy and lazy
we cherish the day,
sip cabaret,
tangled together,
lost in the sky,
thigh upon thigh,
scented and soaked
in liquid hot lust
I'll bottle to savor
in moments like these
when the dream
starts to waver.

Acceptance

I am
unexplored
territory,
landscaped
in silent
discontent,
and eroded
by the waters
of so-called
acceptance.

Peeling

Without him
I am dull and dry
peeling at the edges
ill equipped
to pull back dead layers
and reveal the soft
sultry substance
inside.

Melody

You are the notes
that resonate within,
and you are the space
between each breath,
and in blessed calm
you compose the song
that is the melody
of my life.

The Trail

I sit on a
mountain side
trying to hide
from the skin
whipping wind,
as regrets begin,
fears appear,
tall pines howl
and the sky
seems to scowl
with sleet
unexpected,
and utterly
rejected
I slip away,
slap stinging still,
down the hill
and back to the trail
I know.

Entranced

In burgundy silk sari,
soft on swaying hips,
I slip into the dusk,
cool and whispering
of springs return.
And my skin seems to sing
of rose petals and ecstasy
as I dream of you next to me.
And draped in deceptive night
as misleading as your sight,
I am tripped up and tricked
into believing in my visions,
the lure of your deep light,
and the beautifully preposterous idea
that "you and I" are right.

Immodest

Thinking of you again
my secret little sigh,
precaution set aside
indiscreet, irrational
(and probably unwise)
I scheme and dream
and plot my play,
remembering the day
someone urged me
“just be bold”
surprised to find
I’m actually sold
on such an idea,
can this be me?
that shy little girl
you’ve always known
suddenly grown
into immodest woman
who after seven years
restrained by fears
will cease to hide
desire confide
and ask
for what
she wants.

Anger

This anger
is almost
as red hot
as the desire
is not.

Seductress

You tilt your head just a tad
as I twirl a curl of hair
around my finger.
And in response to the way I lick
my lips, then touch and tug
just a bit,
you moan aloud,
shift your seat,
and lay a sigh
at my feet.
And I smile
surprised to find
reflected in gray eyes
a seductress
smiling
back.

Response Ability

The cursed gift
of response-ability
pounds its fist
into my heart
as discrepancies
do their part
to strip me down
until I drift numb
and dumb
in a pale gown
of powerlessness
perceived
grieving again
in the empty night
at the haunting sight
of geese against gray
flying for you
and I scream
unheard
misunderstood
in a fist fight
with fate
always too late
I weigh this choice
beseeching the voice
of courage
to respond.

A Man

I live with a man
who sings ragas and
chants hare krishna,
with lotus blossom fingers
that dance across guitar strings
and glide across my skin,
as he leans in
to worship this body
and soul.

I live with a man
who wears glasses when he reads,
whose hair is too long
and wisps in the breeze
while he sits in a meadow
analyzing his dreams.
He understands the placement of planets
in his chart and mine
and how they combine
to give birth to the greatest love
the world’s ever seen.

I live with a man
who doesn’t own a t.v.,
and greets each day alongside me,
one with the earth,
giving birth to serenity.
And I stand, stunned into silence
at the depth of his divinity.
And when I reach out
he reaches back,
further and deeper
into me
than anyone
ever has before.

Bird in Hand

you ruffle the feathers
of this caged bird
stroking her just so
as to make her sing
in a voice so brilliant
it shocks
even
her
self.

and broken winged
she nuzzles into your palm
grateful for the warmth
thankful for the rescue
but secretly poised
to pierce your skin
should your grip
begin
to
tighten.

Temptation

Slipping through the sanctuary,
skirts swish, unnoticed she eyes
saints too engrossed with pious prayers
to see carnal cravings coloring the brow
of recent recruit of seminary school,
a simple fool with Irish brogue in royal robe,
preaches and beseeches an apathetic heaven to hear,
for the people to fear for little do they know
temptation is near.
And as he stutters stumbles and stares,
she smiles,
esoteric, erotic, aware.
Now sitting silent in vacant nave-
just her, God and him,
“Forgive me father, for I have sinned,”
and on bloodied knees she pretends to plead
“Bless me, undress me,
grant me sight this holy night.”
As candles flicker and moonlight glows
sharp gray rays on ancient stone
“Come my child, thou art not alone,”
He takes her hand, and leads her
towards the promised land,
while eyes of saints look away,
too preoccupied to see
sacred sanctuary of iniquity
crumble and corrode,
as those who sought to control
relinquish power
this blessed hour
when Woman stole
it back.

Dark Doll

She sits, my shadow,
porcelain and lace,
fragile figment
of one too many dreams
and two too many drinks.

She sings, the darkness,
and silent screams
echo only in the hollow
of my heart.

She weeps, dark doll eyes
drip drops of loss.

And you, too tall,
hold her, so small
in your hands.

Whisper of wings.

Pull her strings.

It's ok.
I'll let you.

Someone has to.

Blue

On a whispering winter day
I sought to unlock the blue.
"My mistake" I thought distraught,
watching unfocused through frost,
lost, as four short, crisp, cool quips
spat in shards from the unconscious of you
shattered the sodalite that sat on my skin,
suddenly thin, like ozone above,
and shocked I watched as the solstice sun
appeared to dim.
Then and there corpse-cold lips
began to drip with a
slippery sweet stinging hue,
a cold and biting, bitter ice blue,
not quite the shade I'd had in mind...
nor expected to find
with the key bestowed by you.