i once believed
in the infinite hands of time,
  the metronome beating
as a distant storm front bleeding tears
for others' sorrows,              
      never my own-

now, a crackling pulse, thundering across splitting fields, beckons;
          I fall on brittle knees,
the slash of biting steel
caresses my flesh; the lion's roar
unburdens my soul.

Gravitating to an unfamiliar tempo, thrashing from former convictions, my eyes cast upward
            peering through the womb
of a universe unborn,
           where destiny lay
    still fused between my teeth,
upon the soft palette
of newly christened
        beliefs-

    lightning blisters a design
(once ordained) into rubble
     the misaligned truths-
             of who I am
what purpose my hands preserve;
           where do these
unparalleled seasons lead?

       I resolve
                to follow the heart
toward a liberating chasm
of    
steadfast dreams
       it seems
                 my  journey       begins . .

How do you know the locks to pick, the clasps to open, the words that break such silences -- you forever unshackle my expressions, leaving emotions so unbelievably exposed, naked before your loving eyes.

you tease between
my slender silence,
knowing always the sultry
surrenders your trembling
syllables awaken,
such palpitations
seizing each breath
as tender exhales
patter like soft footprints
across a deserted beach
where paired seagulls fly
amidst daybreak's
purpling storm.

When I awoke to catch
the ocean at sunrise,
I spied the moon
still out beyond curfew        
tiptoeing in sleek oleander,
glistening outside
the landscape of dreams.

Love will come to you,
not as a mist
wetting your face softly,
but as a tremulous storm
shaking your passions loose,
swaying your thoughts
with ravenous appetites,
flooding every arid place inside
with the intimacy of hands gripped,
eyes enchanted,
words laced in poetry.

the sea wrinkles, extends
beneath her moon glow, awaiting
its lustrous return
keening with melancholy ache
of wave soaking midnight sands
unreflective as night's obsidian
hand - snakes along his features
casting a shadowed aura
across his liquid expanse
lulled into silent slumber

while the moon fore-sakes
her nightfall promise
stretched alongside
his ivory form, awakening
breathlessly, tremulously, he
discovers her as moonshine
on outstretched palms, bathing
in her resplendence

         was it all summer night's splendor,
         (quicksilver to his mind like the moon        
         beckoning his misbegotten sea)
         or had she - at last - returned
                to solace his lovesick dream?

there you are - thumbing a ride
with happiness, extracting love
from the sequins that complicate
her heart's design, stitching them
between your eyes so you can peer
beneath her sea's depths
categorizing feelings before
she navigates them for herself

your momentous swelling
hovering inside each breath
tickling the insteps of secrets
stashed behind a cracked staircase
whisperings starched under steadfast lips
that smile to contain you, refrain you
from getting too close
from learning everything
there is to know about
   her love

Breathe. Accept.  You are not the wrinkles in bedsheets or faded stars you dipped dreams within. You are this face, long and crookedly smiling, accompanied by dark eyes with brows that feel the painful weight of time stitching together aches felt in others.  Your hair threads into strands braided with midnight and a heart  straying toward forgiveness.  Peer through the shadows, the unlined eyes, these pale lips.  There’s faith in those contours, desire behind your hips.

words flutter as fireflies
flicking the glass
anxious, incessant,
nagging my sleep
berating decisions,
lamenting shortcomings,
tapping upon every insecurity
until they are spoken, liberated
from the heart's sarcophagus
I watch them fumbling through air
spiraling madly, luminescent
in their liberty, twirling
upon night's velvet cape
then dissipating into the ether
of forgotten memory
as thoughts expire
and settle into the fragrant satin
of freshly stained dreams

you are cinnamon light
shimmering the burnt cheek
of apple crisp afternoons
penetrating your core, ravishing
in possibility, tranquility  
decide how you'll treat today
spend her preciously, selectively
honor your hands with activities
that replenish hungering thoughts
learn your value in words spoken
in your care for others, and mostly,
the expressions you say
to yourself that cultivate self-love
for you are divinely constructed
configured in silken care
and majestically your own
live this day as an elegantly arrayed
promise, gifted for you to unveil
exhale this new beginning

your hissing  tongue
pierces once again
vile words, berating my worth
only I have learned (at last)
to disentangle my heart
from your snare's belittlement
staring into the unwholesome sky
with muted lips
awaiting tomorrow's painted beauty

you speak of her as light
possessed with amber eyes
dispersing your heart's darkness
but can you also love her night
dwelling behind an artful smile
as the moon dips between clustering trees
casting black velvet shadows
a hush between lips, damp with waiting
can you hold her unsteadiness  
with faith-filled hands
patient and calm until her moonlight
shimmers upon your skin again

we sat after class tracing scratches
through six months of static
stinging and hacking
from so much phlegm
trapped in our vocal chords

as I wrote
their bravery bled through
my dry silence,
an overpowering heat
strengthened my resolve
to speak through crippled lips
bloated from too many withheld words

I closed my eyes, felt their calm
soothing my hands
folding them into a fingered steeple
where now we bow our heads
retreating from today's tension
into the solitude of curved symbols
a hieroglyph for hearts

to recreate
          that which was once broken
to foster reconnection from distance
to peel back layers of feeling
and arrange our secrets
         as poetic scripture

why are we
so crudely made
when placed along side
our conceptions of love

we fall miserably short
of caring, listening,
giving, receiving
yet in our dreams
there is no threshold      we must cross

the slip into love
is as effortless
as the moon's benediction
after an autumn night's
prolonged slumber

hold my fingers in yours
    let's inscribe
                                 love letters
  
       within the cloud's  
underbelly
               dimpling heaven
in golden filigree

         and terra-cotta   b l u s h

she, a placid sea of smiles,
a tincture to soothe his distress
with restorative moonstone eyes
the hue of a frosted moon
in milky highlights

yet tempests corrugate
her shimmering textures
liquid skin trembles
far beneath this sedate surface
a turbulent passion,
a movement of flowing tentacles,
multi-colored sea anemone
brush the sea floor
stirring pebbles in the undertow
as ossified diamonds

his lips tingle at the ripples
released from her long-awaited sigh
he feels each seismic vibration
like a tuning fork held close
to her heart's palpitations
translating their varied tempos

he steps from the shoals
toward her undertows
hand held out to brace
the unsteadiness, then words
break open in sea spray
she hesitates, lingers long,
soaking in his confession
pulling him from the shallows
towards the depths
of her harlequin heart

Do you ever feel
that there is a greater story
living inside you than the one
you wake up to
each day,
one richer,
more prismatic,
where you can dress
in your bohemian voice,
open oak paneled doors
once denied you,
become all the radiant
seasons speckled
in russets
and autumn golds,
pale peonies,
and Titanium whites?  

Do you ever imagine
the mirror's reflection
as the real you
standing beyond your
mind's limitations?  
What would it take
to awaken
on the opposite
side of your thoughts,
to dream in excess
& possibility beyond
the confines of this
reality to a world
where you become
all that you can imagine?

Do you ever imagine
      you've lived this day
long ago

only under the beveled glass of a dream,
and now,

you're just going through

      the motions using muscle memory?

I sit here feeling
the flesh of the world
heaving with the enormity
   of today's pain
tears are indescribable
watching eyes chiseled
from hardship, lips pressed
into sepulchers of unspoken words

I kneel before an altar
           resurrecting childhood faith
whispering again a scripture
to relinquish this surcingle
         clenching my chest
  we are more
                      than these dark hours
we will rise

         from the bleeding woods
and hurricanes threatening
       security and any semblance
                                                
of peace

we are more than these crises
                      and when the smog
        fades, the tempests   retreat

we will lift our hearts
   use our hands
                and rebuild

humanity again

A high school graduate
posed a question on YouTube
         What is school for?

After 25 plus years
of instructing,
I'll provide
a heartfelt answer.

School, for me, is
an opportunity
to share a passion for listening,
reading, opening minds,
      developing souls,
teaching students to share
their feelings,  
    debate opposing views,
challenge what they already knew.

I detest state tests,
and I'm worried
about the coronavirus,
but I step through my school's doors
each morning donning a mask,
and I teach
     for the love of my students,
     for the pride in my subject,
     for the hope of our future.

I teach because if I don't,
will someone listen to their hearts,
and pre-pandemic, who will bring
extra food to share after class,
dress up  as a cheerleader
at pep rallies and homecoming week,
coach cross country, sponsor
Friday afternoon writing clubs
for students who need
an outlet for their creative voices?

You see, there ARE many of us
out here who truly care
and want to teach
students life skills
and a way to cope.

Be careful when you ask,
"What goes on in my high school?"
Stop in and observe first-
I am proud of my heritage
as a second generation educator,
and I'm grateful for the students
who have taught me as much
as I've taught them.

Teachers model empathy
      and understanding,
the ability to time manage
     with school, sports,
                 and part-time jobs.
They remind us that we need
to think
and feel
and care
for each other.

Come to my school;
     walk through our doors,
and then tell me -

             What is school for?

it was an era of candlelit dreams
     we played my piano
     harmonizing the evening's laughter
     transfixed by starlight
     and peppered with too much youth
     to catch the fallen minutes
     drifting as snowflakes
     between our words

        its remnants still leave a taste
        of Parisian nights on the rim
        of my glass - how you toasted
        every hour as the sun bled into
        the Seine and our blush faded
        to overcast with upturned lapels
        and footsteps receding into nightfall

dawn aches behind my eyelids
such a yearning for sleep
unsettled thoughts
wrinkle the mind  
I can not smooth their
inconsistencies or
carelessly tuck them back
within steadfast dreams

they creak down hallways
a long shadow billowing
in moonlight, hair tossed
as waves crashing, releasing
suspending  - I crave

the certainty of silence
this unrest disrupts
the manicured space
where I have painted
tranquility

but I find, if you count
backwards
you can forget sorrow
misplace concerns
gather flesh
to warm
brittle roots
             5,    4,
secrets drift behind
an arched wing

                             3,    2
lightning retreats softly
into dim    heartbeats
caramelizing time
as amber light
fades to  
black

When critics roar
parceling out every error,
weakness, & poor decision
keep breathing,
           count,
meditate;
wander out
& watch the sunrise,
study Her wonder as light curls
from pale rose
to a ravishing blush;
pull kindness
from your pocket,
drop its gilded edge
into others' palms,
smile at glimpses of promise,
allow tears, too, to come
for feeling is the opposite
of a walking death;
don't retreat
from today's pain;
a blistered heart stings
& you may suffer
for a while,
but the beauty of hurt
is that it also heals-
given time

when silence breeds discontent
and critics ensnare your feet
in a morass of minutiae
amplify your truth

when gossip makes
a mischief of reality
stand your ground
command all energy
toward positivity

never relent because
others seek to mold you
in their stale likeness
never submit to quietude
when you are gifted
a poetic voice

It's your obligation
to subjugate negation
and contort vexation
into your own narration
toward personal salvation
Your thoughts, your creation
only your fingers, the translation

Never submit to false authority
lies, malice do not signify you
hold your head high
Look to the stars
and dream in words
again

If we can restore vibrancy to color
stripping layers of time
to render art new
then can we lift sound particles
from memories
laid down decades before
dab a pen over words
slandering our hearts
eliminate critical noises
that chastise
til all we recognize
is a blank slate of static
where WE select
rhythm and pace     
            
compliments      feeding our lives' diorama  

                 beliefs              entangled    
                                    between      
                                              heartbeats

we become the artist
         the symphony playing remastered tunes

Stay Strong    
                                  You are Valuable
And, most importantly,

           You Deserve to be Loved

silence scooped into tributaries
navigating thoughts by gondola
we glide beneath her Bridge of Sighs
tasting the acrid breath of lost words
into a palazzo where ideas congregate
exhumed from brackish waters
poems glistening between our oars'  
slippery blades at midnight

A student stayed online today
  to ask an earnest question:

               "Will this pandemic have a lasting
                 impact upon society, or will it, too,
                 be forgotten like the Spanish Flu?"

I hadn't thought of a reply just then;
instead, I stared through the screen
and spoke from my heart.

"I think everyone in school right now
will be fundamentally shaped
by this magnanimous event;
in prior generations, it was world wars
and Vietnam, for me it was 9/11,
but this year's tragedy will become
a fixture in your collective memory."

"My hope is that your generation
will rekindle society's compassion
and generosity,
that you will grow
from these months
of social isolation
to listen more closely,
engage in meaningful conversations
honor older generations,
your schools,
and the value
of a hard day's work."

                            "You mean to be a more kind,      
                             respectful, and responsible  
                             generation," he said smiling.

"Yes, and to show those
older and younger
what it means to be enriched
by hardship,
wise through self reflection,
humbled by uncertainties
and unknowns."

lying in bed
the day cradled by darkness
drifting back through wisps
of who I'd been at thirty
baby suckling my *******
workday weary and money starved
yet proud of a life carved out
in fruit trees and a hammock
swaying beneath pines

such a long streaked memory
I crawl upon hands and knees
through the portal to now
recognizing that every blessing,
every tear stained disappointment
all the years of wiping down
studying, providing, enduring
have proffered this moment
an opportunity
       to step beyond
   the mind's confinement

to risk safety for beauty
anxiety for understanding
   to become again
a child of wonder
sculpting her future
in the clay of stars

tomorrow threads a new day
desks pulled out into the hallway
masks adorned in silence
speaking with sincerity to students  
I might never meet face to face
yet their hearts pour out
in my dreams, making me long to hear
their endless conversations
for once a teacher
I  cannot sway my heart
from caring, and so I don the mask
and when they come to class next week
the focus becomes their learning
less upon a nightly fear for my health
for giving is our greatest gift
may self concerns be eclipsed
by love for the gift of teaching
this is my greatest wish

There are riotous dreams
to be tucked beside
our pillow's haven
where your words
whisper
Inside my soul's velveteen
amidst this slumber,
I hear your call
wrinkled smile,
drowsy serenade
captured beneath
my arm's sultry grip

stay a while longer-
the moon's pallor
lingers long upon our silhouette
moonlight confessions
release our tongues to oversleep
where your speech tussles
beneath mine in bedsheets
spun in gilded verse

pen your couplet along my wrist
to coax a charm of unforgotten words
dispelling unkind memories
tell me why you and I
should
why your sigh
suspends
my breath
how reading
your thoughts
makes me
uncoil my hair
slowly
around your waist's sincerity

divulge all that makes you
feel with forbidden passion
as I curl into the contours
of your rest
sleeping beneath your breath
sighing within the circumference
of your arm's expanse
hold me close, dear
extinguish starlight
tempt my heart's glow
to shine for you tonight

standing in the eye of your storm
while words are hurled
into my heart once more
I never asked to defend
my right to breathe
when your moods erupt
in jagged shards of tragedy
destroying all the love
we held so beautifully
but I can't fight you any more
no I can't fight the fury of your hurt
It's not about me
this rage you stage
in firestorms whenever  I walk away
It's not about me
when you tell me no one will ever
love you this way again
It's not about
me

I wait alone
wrapped in paper
shivering amidst cold
the door pressed hard
against my chest

this time a year ago
I met a similar fate
the verdict returned
       cancer
a word my mind
has deconstructed
reconstructed
discarded
as my past

tears erupt behind
my eyes
how can I afford
to fight again
at what cost
and during
a pandemic

the door **** twists
as she emerges
eyes averted
my throat scored
in pain
"It's benign,
come back
6 months from now"

unable to move
I peer through haze
minutes tease silence
then with
trembling fingers
I dial his number
Aiden answers
    "Mom, you okay?"
nodding tearfully
with newfound certainty
I finally whisper, "Yes!"

I've spent the morning soaking my heart
in your words,
feeling each tenderness,
devouring nostalgic verse,
lingering in the fields before sunset's lips
grow silent

How your thoughts intermingle
with my own, slipped like satin
over my head to dress the hips of day
Such quietude to linger in these rooms
with faces I've yet to see, whose
minds are ever present

This meditative state, laced in whispers
enchanting the morning
      thank you for sharing
your vulnerabilities and concerns,
for taking time out
to feel and hope amidst
the scars of unprecedented days

Thank you for reminding me,
we must keep pressing forward
towards the dawn

do not write to impress others
while your truths shiver beneath
the heart's surface
with memories inked in sepia tones
your fingers tracing their muted scents
as Braille while eyes kneel in meditation

instead enter your mind with reverence
wander its marbled halls barefoot
feel time's sacred parabola
steering toward winter
your fingers splayed
upon life's frozen glass

push silence open
allow the celestial light
to sink between
cracked teeth
honor your voice
feel its angelic hymn
rising as a melody above
the sylvan landscape
until your thoughts
coalesce as snowfall
blanketing earth's skin
with love

Your heart knows the trail
that wanders along my lips
how you journey through
my ruggedness reclaiming
every outpost
as lovable, every seaside
as traversable

you navigate these complexities
weaving them between the fabric
of your hands,
your nomadic soul,
the great explorer to my new lands

you claim these soft sands
bathe from my waters
sleep beneath the flesh
of my stars

If a man without arms can dream
bigger than his physical limitations
to become the best archer in the world,
if he can push beyond the frontiers
of all that has been thought possible
for a disabled person,
then why
can't we look beyond
the obstacles hemming us in,
holding us back,
filling our mind's eye
with debilitating fears?  

What would we accomplish
in our lives if we knew
we couldn't fail?  
If every day became
an honest opportunity to grow
and dream and create,
what would we do to fill our days?  

How would it feel to live our lives
unfettered from the voices
that chide us with harsh criticism?
What can we do to silence those
who oppose our dreams?
And why should we
ever again allow
another human being
to shackle or define for us
the best life we choose  to dream?  

When we recognize
that these voices are just
hollow echoes of our own
or others' insecurities,
then we begin to live
authentically,
to delve beneath
the physical depths
into an authentic life
teeming with drive
and determination.

your words cultivate my body
          into a vast garden
tended by an avid gardener's care
       seasoned hands bedeck my fields
in hyacinths, lilies, and daffodils  

        my eyes and cheeks arrayed
in swathes of color
                   a canvas path splayed
with your artistry

       through fingers you *****
                  a hanging bridge dangling
from my *******
      serpentining through hosts of trees
            atop a rushing ravine      
such dramatic whimsy
                 suspends my breath

      how your natural hands express
  my bounty in
               each blossom's fragrance
through fluttering leaves
        your lips possess  a heightened understanding    
              of what a place love can be

you carve into
                  my hip
                               a Chinese
                                                  bridge
             the crescent
                                arch    
                                          reflected

in the water's counter image
               to form our moon's fullness
         these ripened sensations
cast dew upon
my lashes and lips
          damp from night's thickening air

you are the conductor
               of my blooming season,
        whose orchestral timing
arouses from my flesh
     speckled      
          foxgloves
and contoured tulips
                              

  such musical themes erupt in me
        through your color's symphony
and when light
   descends we form
          a lover's nest
swaddled in trees

you, my lotus flower
mired in depths of darkness
drowning from heavy silt
and silence
reawakening at dawn
a pearlescent flower
divinely shaped
ever constant

cultivating hope
in your petals' curves
with bowed head leaning
toward light's promise
filling my heart
with resurrections
from yesterday's blight

if I could trim lines
texture words
savor each syllable
perhaps
all the passion that erupts
from my ******* would subside
waves would cease their capsizing
sunsets wouldn't hurt my eyes
with their unmistakable beauty

if I could taste the ink-bed
beforehand would sensations
arouse this page instead of my hips
and mind with midnight lips that kiss
each pondering in unbearable sighs
I want to expel this tempest
in gaslit pages
that burn and burn and  
BURN inside

til your hands clutch
these feelings
enmeshed in ecstasy
the splendorous ache of
wanting craving
love's euphoric madness
so much
that only words
cup your face
graze your lips
spoon your soul

These words starve
beneath my tongue
held captive under cracked lips
bleeding incessant vowels
I swallow their trembling cries
clenching the folded petals
of love's velvet season until each
descends in elegant teardrops
silence upon damp pavement
leaving a crimson trail
of regrets my narrowed lens
dimmed, streaked
of all love's shine
fingers pricked
by countless thorns
heart blighted
in night's curse

I've known the fitful hunger
of phantasms flitting across
the moon's golden highlights
contorting thoughts into
misbegotten dreams where
I am a lone traveler again

footfall laboring under loneliness
searching for an antidote
to cure my desperate tongue's speech
alluring tendrils twist round and round
this violet heart, seducing me
with melancholy for your tender love

bathe this muted flame in your oil
tease its heat along your fingertips
let me claim your eyes for my sight
exchange your lips for mine
that I might never lose your taste
in my breath or envision a world
where you do not linger as incense
upon morning's heavy mist

truth leaks between words
when solitude bends
& cradles the past we are
always a child
within the recesses
of a smile  the sinner
kneeling before the altar
of our saint we are
sands of time adrift
in a storm never recollecting

each caught between
nail beds and wisps of hair
tied in ribbons of distant youth
we are mirrors cracked
& misshapen
seldom self reflecting
for fear that if we silence
the noise too long
we'll be caught
listening to sobs
of rain collecting
in gutters heaving

with resistance
an ever aching
reverberation
who have I become
who have
I
        become?

Sitting in the faculty lot
thinking how I'm as nervous
as my students
for our first day of class
going virtual, live every day
with all the lack of control
and all that could go wrong
(and it will)

I sit here
staring out
into the darkness
an impending storm threatens
as thunder urges me to drive
and fat rain splatters my windshield

but then, I begin to smile
because another storm will hit
and tomorrow will be fraught
with incredible mistakes
all except for one
important
piece

THEY WILL be back in my classes  
and, oh, how I've missed them
like a mother
of too many children

I can't wait to hear their laughter
to form connections with each class

I can't wait for school to begin again

You-

emit a soul i can barely feel 

standing along the precipice 

of touch and wondrous sensation

billowing through my blouse 

tickling my laughter 

aching inside this want

you-

form in the ripples
that pool 
inside my tears

the mist gathering 
within
each tender thought before
morning makes
light of
their melancholy

you-

gravitate in the creamy wisp 

of dreams my heart takes refuge in 

the lines streaked in fancy 

to suggest rather than convey

you-

reside in the wintry mix
of colors
cast as shimmering glitter
in the snow
the smell of distant embers 

trembling in my homesick memory

you-

dwell within the deepest caverns

of my hunger satiating this desire 

with morsels of stars and sprinklings

of moonlight filtered through
the leaves 
of conversation

you-

an enticement

a Luna moth in flight 

the dew on blades of grass

the sustenance of silvery clouds
You

come lay beside me
let my fingers caress your sorrows
working through deep creases
releasing all stress your breath carries
massaging tense shoulders
and unspoken hurt buried in your chest
pulling pain from silent reservoirs
of former loneliness

I am here with you now
there is no sadness
my laying of hands can't resolve
in love there is only purity
a bliss found in eternal connection
let me tenderly kiss
all that delays your thoughts
from slumber

together, we
conquer fear as my fingers
work the tendons
making them pliable again
cupping hands to your heart
feeding you warmth and beauty
to quell midnight aches

come to me, whisper
your concerns
you never need carry
them alone again
for love conquers doubts
sending a tsunami
of tenderness
wave upon wave
to flood your soul
for  in love
we are made whole

you take my hand
as we stroll
together
deep, deep down
a serpentine
path to woods

amidst thick moss
and tree coverings
with fronds
caressing our hips
as we pass
drops of cool rain
cooling our cheeks
streaming rivulets
nourishing lips

where we taste
remote sensations,
a world
dislodged from
society's roots

we are more
than these bodies,
this ancient flesh
we are
interwoven in
a mystical connection,
constellations beading
eternal sky

in a telepathy beyond
eyes and fingers,
a language exceeding
words, until we
converse entirely
through our
hearts' speech.

We may not know yet
the contours of our hands
or the way our lips come together
to create a chapel of divinity,
but we know the textures
of our laughter, how our thoughts
harmonize, how it feels to breathe
each other's sensitivities.

You may not have felt them
with your eyes, but your heart
has caressed my scars and soothed
their tinted stains until the hurt
beneath their puckered skin dissolves
as two lovers confess freely, express
in a liquid aura of unconditional love
without pride or vanity.

I never want to be mere fingers
clutching your back
laced in forgetfulness, lined in pain
I long to be the soft silhouette
you hold close
imagining every night
as I pull you in so deeply
the midnight hunger
that makes you sweat
leaves an ache fluttering
in your heart

when we say goodnight
I want to be your cricket's song
soaking up dusk
and mourning dove
cooing at first light of love

I want to feed your mind,
envelop the need
for your body's sweet surrender
to my perfumed lips
kissing every trace of loneliness
as clouds descend
cloaking our naked skin
in nightfall's whim

I'd share with you
how much our
early morning
walks have become
sacred coffee meditations

a chance for you
to confide in me
your dreams
pose bizarre scenarios
tell me about kids who
are YouTube famous
& vow you'll
make "mom a millionaire
one day"


I smile
absorbing obscure
WWII trivia
listening to
your laugh's positivity
wanting to just
hold you close
       catching my breath

instead
we silence
our footsteps
  staring up at the mystic sky

        an ivory moon
                    tarnished yellow
by the yawn of day

& I want to keep this moment
open, blooming inside my chest


feeling your steps racing
beyond my own, knowing this

wedding cake memory
is but a taste I can only savor

you, the moon, the talk of
future days, such riches
blessing my heart

only quiet tears express
this love

of a mother
  to her teenage son

you teeter
on emotional frenzy
each word etched slowly
in sensuous curves
of flickering candlelight

your taper drips
from tempting fingers
burning my heart's inseam
singeing tender skin
in enticing wakes

come closer
beguile my air
with your enchanting lips
flutter my skin
in your heartbreak's hollow
& seduction's cries
tease my ear, hold me near

I want, I crave
your sleek
whisper's verse

to be your shimmering muse
wafting inside dreams
melding within fragrant breath
to feel your poem's potency
blistering my tongue
such intimacy carried
within the vessel of my soul