Such Tenderness
by Michael R. Burch

for the mothers of Gaza

There was, in your touch, such tenderness—as
only the dove on her mildest day has,
when she shelters downed fledglings beneath a warm wing
and coos to them softly, unable to sing.

What songs long forgotten occur to you now—
a babe at each breast? What terrible vow
ripped from your throat like the thunder that day
can never hold severing lightnings at bay?

Time taught you tenderness—time, oh, and love.
But love in the end is seldom enough ...
and time?—insufficient to life’s brief task.
I can only admire, unable to ask—

what is the source, whence comes the desire
of a woman to love as no God may require?

Keywords/Tags: Gaza, mothers, touch, tenderness, dove, shelter, wing, coos, sings, babies, fledglings, love, god

At Once
by Michael R. Burch

Though she was fair,
though she sent me the epistle of her love at once
and inscribed therein love’s antique prayer,
I did not love her at once.

Though she would dare
pain’s pale, clinging shadows, to approach me at once,
the dark, haggard keeper of the lair,
I did not love her at once.

Though she would share
the all of her being, to heal me at once,
yet more than her touch I was unable bear.
I did not love her at once.

And yet she would care,
and pour out her essence ...
and yet—there was more!
I awoke from long darkness,

and yet—she was there.
I loved her the longer;
I loved her the more
because I did not love her at once.

Published by The Lyric, Romantics Quarterly and Grassroots Poetry. Keywords/Tags: Epistle, love, antique, prayer, pain, shadows, lair, touch, heal, healing, share, sharing, companionship

Corona
by Michael R. Burch

There was a moment
  without the sound of trumpets or a shining light,
    but with only silence and darkness and a cool mist
      felt more than seen.
      I was eighteen,
    my heart pounding wildly within me like a fist.
  Expectation hung like a cry in the night,
and your eyes shone like the corona of a comet.

There was an instant . . .
  without words, but with a deeper communion,
    as clothing first, then inhibitions fell;
      liquidly our lips met
      —feverish, wet—
    forgotten, the tales of heaven and hell,
  in the immediacy of our fumbling union . . .
when the rest of the world became distant.

Then the only light was the moon on the rise,
and the only sound, the communion of sighs.

With all the understandable gloom, doom and despair over the coronavirus, I was reminded of this early poem of mine that used the term "corona" in a much more positive light. I wrote this poem around age 18 and it has been published by Grassroots Poetry and Poetry Webring. Keywords/Tags: Corona, coronavirus, touch, union, communion, sighs, expectation, unity, trumpets, heart, pounding, ***, arousal, union, ecstasy, consummation, consecration, omen, comet, shooting star, talisman, moonrise, moon rising

It's this haze of neon that makes us dumb and better
for the wrong reasons. The gin and
your lipstick on my mouth and my eyes on your collarbone
because I swear to god it's the best ******* thing I've ever seen.
Intoxication seems to be a mood these days,
a feeling. In the evening air into which we give.
You pull me out of my head and into the world. Into
you. And I
probably won't forgive you for that down the road.

Everything else is everything else. Blurred,
smoked out by the fire
that is your touch. Bring your heat closer.
Closer. And closer still. Burn me out, please,
so I don't have to see
tomorrow. Next week, next month, next year
alone. Let me indulge while I can.
Because you give me euphoria
but I'm learning
that all I give you is a buzz.

Although i havent felt your touch in months
It still lingers heavily on my
skin
The need for you forever burning
Youve set a fire deep within
No water or disturbance
can extinguish
The love i have for you
And as i lay here ever lonesome
My thoughts are full of you

A knife. A gun.
These instruments usually inspire
One feeling. One thought. Fear. Run.
But for some people, it could inspire
A completely different thought.
"Just one."
"One slice. One bullet. No more pain.
No more voices in my head
Driving me insane.
It's amazing. One is such a small number, but it can change so much.
One slice. One bullet. One kiss.
One hug. One touch.
All it takes is one person to say
"I love you. I care."
Be that "one."
See how much of a difference you can make by saying "if you want to talk, I'll be there."

Coffee brown lit light skin
Silk rolled glowing lights
Heal my heart, mere smile
Shining through berry lips

Rose petal imprint on my cheeks
With a racecar engine
Beside fantast filled lungs
Her warmth touch, current spikes
Melodies, vocals can't compete

Here hear my heartbeats sweetheart
With a kind response, patting kisses