So here I am
waiting, holding onto
only what I know for fact
lest confusion over what I don't
smothers me and I falter.


My breath hesitates, and lingers as it flows
over and under the slopes of my lips-- it seems
to get stuck as it slides over the lower--
it halts and it throbs and then shudders on in,
and the intake of air shocks me,
as my lungs remember their function.


And maybe, perhaps, country matters are no such thing
that I should know of, or of which we should converse, but sir,
your head twixt my legs keeps my focus at bay, and the
nunnery of which you speak seems not so nice a place to dwell
as your mouth when you speak to me, or your glance as it falls on me,
or your bed as you....
......drive me mad, you do!

I'm stretched like twine and you keep striking at my tension,
keep trying to make me sing, but--
if you want me to sing, I'll do it only for you, so---
do you really want me to?
Your tokens, your words beguile me.
Your exhalations of sweet sound and soft breath tell me
that I want to suck them from out your lungs and into my own.

No stone, no rock, no granite cage
can confine your mind, or mine, nor can they withstand
the ravages of Time, so why should I?
Soon I will crumble into dust as well as you, my lord.


If I could only feel that fire again, that reason-consuming heat!
Only feel that sharp beat of my pulse, in my chest,
in my belly, in my head, filled with nonsense like love and longing
and nursery rhyme ditties, and I'm wondering
why you get so achingly close
to my face and yet,
with a mere feathers-breadth between our faces,
you still won't let yourself go, won't let yourself forget, won't
let your hands grasp my face and pull it, like you want to,
to yours so you can taste, and taste fully,
my budding insanity with your tongue.


I need that flame, I need that fire.
I need the fierceness that comes with that need,
comes with that love, my love, and I need to be real, and open,
so your fancy can take flight through me,
so this silence and simple
compliance can break and
release and float and be free.


Just don't leave me here (where are you now?)
alone and without your light, with only this
vacant lot of my heart again,
a hollow made bigger by your invasive fingers,
intruding affections, prodding words--
the hollow now stirred to swirling colored dark as the mist creeps in,
conceals the sun, and makes everything apparent in
its dead little way--- I will surely go mad!
I care not to succumb to such overwhelming
clarity, and yet I fear you have already infected me with faint strains
of your own brand, and how dare you move me!--
How dare you awaken the woman I never
will be and tell her of secrets
she will never know?

This sorrow seeps contagious and the deeper
the despair the harder it is for me to cope--
you are all that I want to deal with this sadness, all that I want
to deepen the dark that surrounds this head, to immerse me so wholly
in your musky scent. In that
drown me dead!

But-
until then, I'll wear my rue
in a different sort of way,
and when next we meet, my only never-love,
take care not to pity me.
I only wish you could see me now,
as I am floating like a vision
of some violet in the sky,
as I soak, as I slip, as I sink deep beneath,
into the world that I sleep only to see,
where I am wrapped in a pair or warm arms at night,
and we spare neither thought nor care for daylight,
and you kiss me, you do, you are
kissing me now,
as my waterlogged dress to the mud drags me down.