Close to the End

[bamboosticks]

My time living in Japan is almost over. I wrote another poem last night that I actually feel a little eager to share.

My Siren
Here she is, my siren
with a mouth full of honey,
a drinkable kiss
that soothes my burning throat with a golden cold
that spreads like butter across my ribs
and spirals down to my center
where its sugary weight balances me
and holds me still.

Here she is, my siren
with a gaze full of promises,
a fallible instinct,
An urge within which demands a break
from before and after
to a place made of late mornings
and granted requests.
An urge I trust tenderly
and with a casual calm.
Here she is and here I stay.