The Strong Clasp

How I suffered to give you Sunday.

You’ll never know, I suppose, since

most of the sorrow was my own mix:

Guilt from betraying my current

lover, slipping out of my once

strong clasp, and that thorn

of hurried worry to catch you 

before you left the station,

to give you this piece from under the bracken,

this part of my own heart’s song that hummed

off the blasé beige bricks wet from a dull rain.

My man picked me up—stopped for coffee

to wait out the storm—slow low clouds.

I could barely see him,

blurred through my urgent mission.

Don’t go, yet.

I was breathing to you,

I need to give you this

talisman, this beating beauty,

my prayer for your journey.

But I had to wait wait wait

Ungrateful girl,

living in the somewhere,

not in the here.

How I burned both ways

with desire

and shame.

~~~~~~~~~~~

And what gift did you hold for me?

The strong velvet marble vein

standing in a shaft of light.

I didn’t even know.

I stood at the opening

longing to undress.

yet so afraid of my nakedness.

Something kept pushing me

though these clouds

I dreamt of mountains

and then I could fly~~

 I could fly!

Why hadn’t I known

before?

So softly were my ankles held,

I didn’t need to be afraid~~

I was cradled in light.

How could it be otherwise?

And I broke open for you

 by the fire

where the Celtic gypsies were keening.

You knelt and unhitched the black lace mantilla

that held my breasts.  I still recall your lips

shushing the floating plum isle

of my left nipple

while you brushed my thighs,

my rippling new-born flesh.

How could it be other

than this?

Caught and released,

Bodhrán

stroked

tip toppled

wasn’t it, then?

As I sang out into

your arms your mouth

your hands?

Hold me again

in your eyes

so wide.

Oh, darling,

how did it

how could it

end?