(no subject)
Untitled
5/10/09
Let me touch the softness of your hair
in the night, fingers weaving through as if I were a gladiator
and you - the fields of Elysium, every slope, angle and curve
the mountains, hills, and roads. Let me lean into your hair
and smell dreams. You are the place I go to
when I die. You, my living and my end
bled together on one page and every page
and my pleasure is to chafe the inside of my hand with as much rough soil
I can grab.
My thumb
against your jaw, scuffing at the dark stubble just like your boot
or mine on any floor. But let them be our floors -
and I will kneel down
lay my palms down around each mark
and kiss what you have made,
what we have made the same
in one place.
And when I rise again,
it will be with your sons breaking
from my heart like a wave, spilling out of both arms:
the hurricanes, forever free,
made to flood the world and cover me,
everything I cannot keep, what I drink and drink too much of.
Then I will touch the softness of their hair
like those same fields of heaven
fleeting into darkness,
and I will touch and touch and kiss each fiber
as I pass through and away, never holding on.
It is not for me to be a cage
or a god.
5/10/09
Let me touch the softness of your hair
in the night, fingers weaving through as if I were a gladiator
and you - the fields of Elysium, every slope, angle and curve
the mountains, hills, and roads. Let me lean into your hair
and smell dreams. You are the place I go to
when I die. You, my living and my end
bled together on one page and every page
and my pleasure is to chafe the inside of my hand with as much rough soil
I can grab.
My thumb
against your jaw, scuffing at the dark stubble just like your boot
or mine on any floor. But let them be our floors -
and I will kneel down
lay my palms down around each mark
and kiss what you have made,
what we have made the same
in one place.
And when I rise again,
it will be with your sons breaking
from my heart like a wave, spilling out of both arms:
the hurricanes, forever free,
made to flood the world and cover me,
everything I cannot keep, what I drink and drink too much of.
Then I will touch the softness of their hair
like those same fields of heaven
fleeting into darkness,
and I will touch and touch and kiss each fiber
as I pass through and away, never holding on.
It is not for me to be a cage
or a god.