there is a girl
with stars in her eyes.
i am drawn to her
like an astronomer
to the heavens.

there is a girl
with hair as soft
and flowing
as the breeze that caresses
silken petals.

there is a girl
whose lips
as they brush my cheek
transport me to a realm
where intimacy is allowed to exist.

there is a girl
with whom i want to spend
as much time as possible.
i want to know all there is to know.
i want to be close to her.
 
there is a girl.
the very thought of her
entices me to be reckless
to disregard my fears
and be guided by affection.

there is a girl
whom i dare say
i love.

You will never see
How your smile lights up the room

                                                 However

                                                        ­                                           You always see
                                                             ­        How your smile lights up my heart

I often wonder what it must be like
to not feel constantly isolated
by those who claim to claim you,
so-called alliances crumbling
when they realize your nature cannot be changed.
there are no rainbows in pastel skies,
and they love us until we are no longer PG
no longer PC.
love is love until you love like me

First, Mother Nature met Diana.

Mother nature, autonomous woman
Place the elixir of life onto my tongue,
Three drops, put your mouth above mine
Let your saliva drip in
Touching the roof of my mouth.

I’ll now tilt my head back,
Choking as it runs down my throat,
A beautiful agony, as always
Into my body,
Down to my stomach,
The tonic of life,
Our life.
Now we shall create.
Amen.

Second of all, with fountains of love, they created a child. They went on to call her Rosina.

let your bees come in,
pollinating, creating life
but only under my terms,
only when i choose
to let them feast upon me

let a small peach form
on the branches of my womb
but let her core be poisonous
hydrogen cyanide,
to keep thieves at bay

if my body is a garden,
let it be ripe,
ever growing, ever flowering
a stretch of soft grass,
for us to lay our heads

mother, mother, daughter
the heavens will sing.

my antique beauty, my china doll,                                                                          
i remember your snaggle-toothed smile,
your gently crooked nose to match.                                                                      
my wayward, moorish sweetheart,
always, you said, or at least,
until death do him part.

yet still, if he is safe and well  
i still cannot help but wonder,
if you could set this swallow loose from your ribcage,
and let us reside once more in our heart,
once more, the way He intended.

i’ve seen the photographs,
sent in dog-eared envelopes, careless.
when did you become so tightly wound,
nothing like the cloth angel I remember
(your dresses flowing in between your legs,
as you ran up the hills before me).

if only you’d let me build you again,
from scratch, my whittling knife tracing
gently, etching the skin that was once mine.
if only you’d pry the paintbrush from his hands,
please, just place it back into my rightful palms.

for i could paint colour back on your cheeks,
bring what he lost in you back to life
for man always cracks and breaks the rosy flesh,
  when he decides you are a wife.

for now i shall keep you in a glass cabinet in my head,
instead of – for the last twenty years – a casket by my bed.
safe, warm, admired, just for me to see
nothing like the princess locked in this tower,
that he so longs you to be.

but, please, please, write back.

tell me what it would take
for me to say, for me to do,
for you to open those glass eyes again and see
that perhaps this rosenkavalier
that you’ve always longed for, might just be a she?

spent so many nights awake
exploring the city at night it’s not the same as during the day
Empire State Building is brighter
and women spread their legs open wider
perhaps, that’s the whole point of it
the wider you spread, the wilder it gets
city love is acrobatic
do the slips but don’t be dramatic