'Your love has given me wings'
is the answer to
'No wonder my happy heart sings'
I know this because
on hot, sticky days
and bone-biting nights
I would croon the tune
over the sink
with my hands lathered
in detergent
and she would smile
because the old Italian song
gave her wings

On your throne,
legs crossed,
feminine fire,
open bar tonight,
look through me,
and show
my eyes
the mistress
of
night’s inadequate
tempting.

On your throne,
queen of queens,
keeper of the king,
crowned with a sigh,
breathy,
slave of youth
with the will of
a wanton gypsy.

On your throne,
I am your subject,
I have nowhere else
I want to serve.

Shoulders smooth
lips glistening
words dismissed easily
as thoughts
shine, shine, shine
diva eyes
the face plays with
expressions like
an orchestra presents
Mozart

You see me rolling
on the floor
Mr Cool Drool
in a state of the union
your puppy
your mobster
your hit man
hitting on you

Place your hand upon my chest
pound your palm
to pick up the pace
and put the pieces
                                 back

In a sea of pain
we float
sharing beads of water
to drink
locking arms to be warm
under a black sky
hopes drifting
into the dawn of
some distant shore

I look at the rain
and the birds flying
with wet wings  

Hold me

I feel the chill through
the door that leads
to the long blades of grass
wet from the rain

Hold me

I inhale a fragrance
of soft fear and
mortality

Hold me

Nightgown,
white top,
a cloud covering
a sky of skin
so smooth
it spreads
delicate
on the frame
of femininity
and makes
me sigh
and glide
into that sky
holding on
for dear life.