here i am
holding on
to relics of your love
after all
i was born
to be on my knees
in worship,
searching for salvation
devoting my life
to the scent
of your skin
the trace of your fingers
the memory
of your mouth on mine
and i know now
i would face
all nine levels of hell
just to hear
my name leave your lips
as feverant as prayer
once more.

"where love is a wave that splashes on the sand"

when a heart
loves
the stars surrender
to the heavens,
the moon catches her breath
and the avenues
of silence become
voice. i follow the
path to my love,
i die for him,
i live for him,
like a spartan
in the heat of battle,
like a flower in the
mist.

~
Sun drips
on leaves

not the backyard variety
but the trembling kind

the kind
that weld night-time
intermissions to
the roof of the mouth

sonnet-filled
evaporation
reveals
the timely concealment of
a very, weary
inanimate object
at the brink

just enough hip
to be woman

just enough wild
to be frontier
~

i feel their eyes on me
and can't help but wish
they were yours
your stare always enough
to set me alight
pinning me in place
a lamb longing for the wolf
for only you
can capture me so wholly
like prey greedily awaiting the hunt
their eyes find mine
and all i see is you.

Your raven hair drapes
my bronzed back.
I attack your neck and
*******, beamed by the
moonlight, I carry you to
Nirvana on a chariot made
of steel.

With all your expert mouth and
tongue of many tribes you
call me to the dance floor
of your poetry.

I ear your accent, I tongue the
vowels of your incredible name

which blossoms every morning.
I bed to your brown eyes when
touch begs rest from incessant
breathing.

You are wheat chaff and I am
the wind which blows over the dead dreams of aged memory.

I understand now the satiety
of your love.  The desert of
uncertainty where the bridge
of your wanderings
crossed my month
of ecstasy.

You are the list I take to
mind's far places when
thoughts of you are

exhausted.


Caroline Shank