Love's the song of the Oriole,
sleek as silk ribbons
pulled from summer's dress.

Trees sigh, relaxed in a warm wind,
gently flexing each golden note.

Love's a bird in flight.
When your heart takes wing,
prepare to be astounded.

As an offering of peace
she brought him cherries
to sweeten the tense air.

Plump black cherries
mouthwateringly ripe,
polished to perfection.

'Shall I come with my brimming bowl?'
she asked.
'Shall we selfishly gorge in secret before
they are over?'

Desiring her sweetness
he feathered her with kisses,
dropped the blind against
a flaming sun and callers-
yielded to sweetness.

Sweet her cherried fingers,
sweet her skin, her lips,
her tongue.

She plied him with cherries,
fed his desire stalk after stalk,
the whole room burnished
with passion.

When twilight seeped in,
they lay cherry - heavy,
clinging to sweetness.

'The secret is ours, he teased,
thoughts turned towards
a handful of dropped,
forgotten stones.

Let the diminished light of winter
creep through the slats of the window blind.
Let it climb rung by rung
until hunger shakes off excessive sleep.

Let early morning frosts shock
the candelabra of the blackened fig
shivering in half-light.
Let it go naked.

Let the woodpecker cling to a sham tree,
tap-tapping his message in code.
Let him take to the air, cackling
at his own folly.

Let the shadowless snake coil
in venomous dreams,
as curled roots slumber
under the rain-soaked earth.

Let winter declare its secret cargo!
Let it be spring!

when the candles of the fig burst into leaf-flame,
when the speckled woodpecker discovers a thick forest,
and the green-gold snake trails the length of her belly through long grasses.

Let our passions rise like sun on the window blinds,
when the lightness of spring is upon us.

For many seasons I awaited your return,
restless on the shore of a great sea,
hair blown wild by brackish winds,
my tapestry unwoven.
For many moons I searched the distant line
where Neptune's hand slices through the sky
beyond the eye's perception.

How frenzied my hands became,
sifting for mythical remains
of boat, of flesh, of washed bones.
From carved crib to wrecked vessel,
your realm was all but stolen,

Then lifted from night's shadow,
on a zephyr's breath, you came
to heal the fever of my sorrow,
my heart grown heavy with longing.

I recall that fateful day, how I wept
while you unfolded wondrous tales
as we lay in half-shade beneath our tree of life.
Between its leaves shines love -
the eternal light,
burning in the heart of Ithaca.


copyright © Caroline Grace 2014

I have decided to go home a different way.

I mean to avoid your favourite liquor store and
the waste ground littered with broken bottles
and piles of ****
where I saw you push aside the light.

I won't stick around to be slaughtered like a trapped rat,
or listen to your blizzard of extinct promises-
struck dumb by 'a few good words'.

Killing time will have to wait,
'coz I've made up my mind.

copyright © Caroline Grace 2014

On the day his temper boiled,
she'd counted fourteen jars,
pleased with her achievement.
Then Vesuvius erupted
like the pan of orange jam.

He slammed out and left her
with fourteen jars made just
for him  by the woman whose
saddened heart sank to the bottom
of each bitter ***.


copyright © Caroline Grace 2014

I work hard to keep you alive,
wrapped in delicate feathers of angel wings.
It's a sacred passion of mine.

For you it's not enough
you always want more.
Grain by grain I am dissolving like a headache cure.

Rue the day when soft wings lift
to find a heart so underwhelmed,
my words engraved on it
in past tense.

copyright © Caroline Grace 2014