Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Fire


There are lines
that cross -

intersecting passions -

meetings
of ghost and
dream and
longing.

Like, when you call me “baby” -
and everything in me
responds -

as if I am the one,
the only,
ever.

But all the while
I am dancing 
among the 
many that came
before.

We dance 
together
at the refiner’s
fire; 

gifts of
past-love/old-love/lost-love
leap and prance
among the flames -

sacred offerings
holding space
upon the altar
of our new-found love.

I wonder - 
what woman 
has shaped you, dreamed 
you, nurtured and 
fed you, even in 
spite of yourself?

I long to 
dance inside
her skin,
to know her 
belly and her 
breasts, the scent 
between her thighs,

the way she called out
when you were inside her –

as if this knowing
will seal our 
fate: yours and mine.

Back and forth,
we dance.

Around and
around
the fire that
transforms
burns,
heals,

destroys.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Clay


I see my hands
are broken

even as I
open them to you
even as I
offer them to you
even as I
pray they can
shape
what this world
has given them

and make magic
and beauty
and life

with you.