in the beginning
there were no delineations markers or boundaries shaping his from
quotation marks he said she said
rivers mapping theirs from ours
after the breakapart happened and cells formed their shimmering walls
osmosis became a necessary violence
no one saw it coming: the way things melded
shapes shifted and melted altogether
primordial edges dissolving
the alchemical goo of a cocoon’s dark secret
it’s lonely here in this void with no landmarks
but I have always been drawn to the amorphous
the mist and surrender to breath and skin
whose rhythm is whose
the battle for autonomy wages on until it doesn’t
and then there is only this:
When Psyche went in search of Eros
She found him asleep, curled and naked
Glowing in the light of her small flame.
The hot wax dripped, burnt him awake,
But not before she’d seen him:
Verdant, erect, forbidden.
She fell again, this time eyes open.
You can hardly blame her.
A glimpse, even in dim light,
Even without his knowing,
Was what she groped for, hungry.
So if I blindfold you,
Tie your hands,
Moving silent as a candle,
Trailing my fingers along
Your freckled and rippled skin,
Kissing your broad, tender mouth,
My tongue a conduit for
The current running through you,
It’s not your power I want–
But your guard, your careful watching.
A glimpse of love is never enough.
Self Portrait: Highjacked
The fruit quickens
Pregnant with knowing
Pregunta, the Spanish say, for Question
She hangs breathless in the air
Teetering, hushed, sapful, ripe
A query, a question mark, a woman’s curve
She asks for only one thing
Again and again
To be seen
To be seen