Macaroons & Chocolates in the dark corners
slowly blooming. Our Blessed Lady
fingered full up and laced,
a pastel littering of petals:
What fun at last! Hidden from sight,
your breasts are perfect on the other side.
I could barely breathe
To come put pins in your hand.
And I still have them,
those precious days of gum weed,
mad with mosquitoes and bees.
I cling to your voice, a tearing scream
so strangely illumined, far away, smiling,
curls falling forward as you work the Rosary
and the world explodes giving out kisses,
gently washing down where you left me
on your satin knee of shiny cream.
I pushed it and a big hole opened up:
A paper bird~~A skyless lark,
I have cried never more brilliant,
barely melting on your tongue.
I talked myself out of it.
The worry in the back of my mind
was like candy to me.
How thrilling and exhausting it all was:
a few cattails and Canada geese,
piles of cassette tapes,
tomatoes and cilantro and lots
of fresh cracked pepper.
That’s about it.
Go out and come back
With a song again.
Tell me, what is it?
The gift floods rivers unstaunched,
blushing and random. How so like a woman~~
plush violent veils, a blessing and comfort to me
so far from home and respect.
Who ruled me?
Metonymy, or the etymology
of oleander, hibiscus and jasmine
with Moroccan tea on the veranda,
putting broken glass in my shoe and Chopin.
Upstairs to linen as another nocturne tender
was red and wrecked
Carelessly torn around the corner,
slowly exhaling sweet juice,
pin-ups, rose-hips . . . .
Just beginning Endlessly enchanting
A dirty raw mess
of a girl.
The water goes shallow, drenching slow.
Wings and legs The morning so full.
You hold for me a savarin pillow,
sweet citrus and azure pools
melting into each other.
This vein of lead stretching out,
this low growing sea foam banquette,
shushes off there at the lake’s edge.
We will cross over to the island--places have been set.
Loveland is so lovely
between your fingers and between your thighs.
I hold close and kiss, hushing over until night.
Just as I expected, Hansel & Gretel
soon swallowed my sugar, my sweet.
And I loved you for hours through windows,
fragile and dear.
Yet, anything I could ask for
could not hurt the glaziery.
I could feel your smile: wave washed warmth.
Tell me again that you love me,
palmed and drowned,
an ant over a peony.
I won’t cry,
blessed by finches
tangled through my hair,
cloistered in blush burgundy silk,
as I gather love around.