we would cry ourselves to sleep in each other's arms
and wake up to a dark sunrise,
counting tear drop stains on our pillows

To  have life
you need to want it
as you want air
beneath the surface.

I was sick of being a woman,
sick of the pain,
the irrelevant detail of ***,
my own concavity
uselessly hungering
and emptier whenever it was filled,
and filled finally
by its own emptiness,
seeking the garden of solitude
instead of men.

The white bed
in the green garden--
I looked forward
to sleeping alone
the way some long
for a lover.

Even when you arrived,
I tried to beat you
away with my sadness,
my cynical seductions,
and my trick of
turning a slave
into a master.

And all because
you made
my fingertips ache
and my eyes cross
in passion
that did not know its own name.

Bear, beast, lover
of the book of my body,
you turned my pages
and discovered
what was there
to be written
on the other side.

And now
I am blank
for you,
a tabula rasa
ready to be printed
with letters
in an undiscovered language
by the great press
of our love.

I thought of you today,yesterday
And the day before that
For every day good or bad
You'll always be in my head.

I'll never get you out ,
I simply don't know how
In fact ,
I'm thinking of you right about now.