Hail to thee, O Rain!

The sharp needles of summer are blunt
And lazor of the noon doesn't perforate the skin!

.                                     Hail to thee, O Rain!

Once again kiss the December's frozen lips
And his cool breath blows through our bones!

.                                    Hail to thee, O Rain!

Don't run away though you are bound
For Summer tortures while you relieve of our wounds!

I want eyes that
cut like a fjord; I want sharp
geography, mountain-peak cheekbones,
I want God's calligraphy, two thick eyebrows,
shadowed sky-soot,
I want lunar eyelashes
tuned to the singing of the moon.

I want fingers
that shimmer like the aurora borealis,
I want to be your palace on fire-- I want
to vanish into the storm at your core,
the whirlwind blizzard of
thousands of cold caresses.

I want lips like glaciers--
like campfires, lips that chill doubt,
that burn my resolve,
that etch hymns into my bones;
I want a voice like a gray wolf,
a growl to tremble my blood,
a low song of protection.

I want a room: a vault of ice,
a glass-topped pod beneath a canopy of stars,
a wood-walled retreat embraced by trees,
with your wave-sharp eyes, your
sky-mountain bones, your celestial
fingers, your fire-bright lips, your--

I want things
I never thought
I'd want
from you.

Does your knife still remember the taste of my blood?

Pictures of dead people I know
are smiling and are so full of life
hanging on my wall
reminding me
to seize this day,
because it's not cliche,
and it won't come again.

Where has all our innocence gone;
When love was just a puppy's song.
We shared furtive looks
Behind school books;
Exchanged shy smiles
Across the aisles;
When eye contact
Had sudden impact.
I followed you from school
In plain view,
To ridicule.
I'd write names in red chalk
On every sidewalk;
Wait down on the corner,
Avoid your father.
Hold calming hands,
Listen to live  bands.
Calls were made
From corner pay-phones,
Some privacy from prying homes.
The first kiss was wet,
And missed,
And still one of the best.
A daring move
At the time,
Sending the anonymous Valentine.
We were waifs,
And Oh so young,
And love
Was prematurely born.