MOMENTS STRETCHED LIKE SPUN GLASS
i want you to feel those moments
between waking and sleeping
when your hands mold mountains from my breasts
like the soft milky clay of china
when your teeth graze the transluscent flesh
of my thighs, my shoulders, my neck as you
inhale my flesh
our mouths lose their way in dark forests
yours protecting mine from the darkness of sleep
i want your hands to cradle my hips like a bowl
of ripe persimmons
glistening in winter sunlight, becoming sunlight
i want to feel your life bloom against the
lining
of our bellies like the desert after the first
spring rain
i want to wrap myself in a ceremonial feathered
cloak
hear the cry of hawks echo from the snowy peaks
of the Andes
and sink my teeth, like some wild animal from the
steaming jungle
into your hand until it bleeds the color of my
rage
i want your death to brush my cheek
like a cat rubbing against the leg of Captain
Ahab
petit mort resting on your eyelashes
like fine ash cinders blurring our vision
or breath condensing on the mirror
your tongue curls snail-like
tracing patterns of seashells in my ear,
it trails along the ridge of my spine
it cleaves the bilateral symmetry of my back
and the front of my body, connecting my mouths
our pulses beating in unison, roaring in our
ears
like rivers during spring flood
along such symmetry to the moist path
a sinewy rainforest of pollen, musk, honey
in our nostrils, in our mouths, as we flow to
the sea,
our tongues, dolphins at play
bathing us in darkness and in light
this day, a moment stretched like spun glass
between waking and sleeping
but as you feed me this nectar of our bodies
it profanes the air we breathe for you withhold
your heart
relenquishing our clear hold upon this day
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