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I WILL keep you and bring hands to hold you against a great hunger.
I will run a spear in you for a great gladness to die with.
I will stab you between the ribs of the left side with a great love worth remembering.
 Dec 2010 Ashley Sandstrom
ju
Can I come to you as I am,
in secret-
brimming with the need to be held?
Can I lay hot whispers on your skin
then taste how they make you feel?
Can I show you how to touch me,
how hard to press?
If I cry
can I hide salty tears
in the soft curve of your neck?
Can I bite, ever so gently,
before I scream?
Can I be your lover,
without you loving me?
Can I, please?
 Dec 2010 Ashley Sandstrom
ju
You are
delicious
And I am
greedy.
You are
generous
And I am
needy.
You are
experienced
And I am
learning.
You are
flammable
And I am
burning.
Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.

Strephon’s kiss was lost in jest,
Robin’s lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin’s eyes
Haunts me night and day.
I hoped that he would love me,
And he has kissed my mouth,
But I am like a stricken bird
That cannot reach the south.

For tho’ I know he loves me,
To-night my heart is sad;
His kiss was not so wonderful
As all the dreams I had.
There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.

You were the wind and I the sea—
There is no splendor any more,
I have grown listless as the pool
Beside the shore.

But though the pool is safe from storm
And from the tide has found surcease,
It grows more bitter than the sea,
For all its peace.
if you name your hair a rope
whip my soul with it
tighten my neck
i am willing

if you take your fingernail as a knife
strive in my breast
cut my day dreams
split my memories
take my yesterday from me, take my tomorrow
i am willing

if you name your eyelash an arrow
and ***** my dreams,
***** my nights
i am willing

if your eyes like sun
sear my mind, scatter my voice
i do not ask what for, how or why
take me to bazaar, sale
i am willing

because the flame of your eyes
is a pair of wings, is peace
it makes my life bird fly
to heaven
to the seven stairs of sky

Translated by: A. Edip Yazar
You gave me your heart in a poetical way.
I figuratively hold this anatomically incorrect symbol in my hands…where do I put it?
For though it terrifies me, I know it is precious. I am worried of it…but I can still feel its warmth and I want to keep it close.
I cannot carry it. Absentminded as I am, I will place it somewhere and it will be gone forever.
I cannot keep it in my pocket. It will go through the wash and I will get it back shrunk and shriveled.
Maybe I will open a door in my breast and place it with my own heart…
But that is grotesque.
This perfectly symmetrical, immaculately red symbol cannot sit next to my own, lopsided, beating flesh!
The juxtaposition would unravel the facade and leave me with…what?
Nothing?
A puff of smoke?
A second heart, beating opposite my own, wearing me down?
Or would the disappeared symbol instead free its meaning throughout my body, disintegrating into tingles that run along my spine and down my arms and legs, that make me shiver imperceptibly as my motion is suddenly guarded, and yet pull up at the corners of my mouth, causing me wary warmth, this oxymoronic push-pull
- -
this feeling that makes me want to fight-or-flight to attack or recede inside myself that starts my adrenaline rushing from unwarranted panic yet also makes me want to freeze time as I close my eyes and smile slightly to bask in the redolent warmth to pull my extremities close in order to let them experience what starts in my chest and then stretch into a star for this feeling to extend its reach to my edges and further
- -
Then this symbol, this encasement of hard metaphor, becomes unwanted.
Its protection, previously so needed, becomes unbearable.
How can I hold it in my hands, in my pocket, coolly perfect, frozen in shape, knowing what it holds inside?
How can I not grit my teeth through the disquiet, the sweaty palms and surge in my gut, knowing the halcyon happiness that lays beyond?

I will not suffer this symbol to stay intact!
I will scratch lines in its colour!
I will peel its icy layers off one by one!
I will ****** it to the ground, and **** its sweet juices from the cracks!
I will descend upon it until it bursts, its shards transforming sweetly into its message.
Connotation broken into denotation, truth unobscured by this superfluous poetry.
This sensation, this meaning, this feeling, this actuality, this state, this phrase
- -
this i love you playing across my body running through my hair
- -
It simultaneously freezes and thaws me.
- may 2008

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