is this falling

When you go
some-bit of good is gone and
I watch over-long
in the light of day left
with imprints of flesh
I touched and tasted taut-wet
left looking past and to
that morrow and morrow
after-morrow when
nothing but a girl am I
that gets lost, wonders…

is this falling
or have I felled?

into the deep blue sky

Too fast
too rushed my life

grey matter gone reckless
to the point of little thought

If I could hold onto you for a moment
hold onto the wishes
I wish on stars

Let my heart race
while the world stills
and dream
with you naked late
into the deep blue sky

of her own accord

She has got through
the hours
on her own accord
taking charge
and charging forth
always
the endeavorance to persevere
always rest
a beacon on the morrow

Some days though
she is weary
and the solid space you possess
beckons like a ballast:
you are new to her
with travails
akin to hers

'tween nurture and slaughter

We women of worth
doubt of which we hold
close, let fester,
how then to lock it away
if not massmurder?

To one,
to which, to whom
of wealth is a lover’s lust
and love
probably-possibly-perhaps
yet not yet counted upon
the doubt of unknowing,
thrills and thwarts.

And her worth?
On the fence
‘tween nurture
and slaughter.

I want...

I want to drive
to the coast and walk the beach
Hear the rain
on a tent as I drift asleep slowly
Take the train
down to carney rides, bolts
loose, I’ll scream
to the thrill of my own heart
beating, ba-boom
Scream for my team, home runs
hit hard, hitting
hard
hard

I want to wake slowly
most days,
teasing
having lingered too long touching
in the eve,
cooing
in the starlight past midnight
Snuggle into
that warm body that takes up
too much
of the bed


I want…

tempura

The onions are best
when they’re sweet
Vidalia or Texas 1015,
the batter mixes best
when the water is ice
cold, and the rings fry
best when the oil is
an inch and half deep…

We have eaten, you have left.

Running my nose
along the length
of wrist and palm,
I can still smell you
on my hands
and on my clothes.