woman made of curves and shadow,
hair like a field of flowers and green grass.
I love the smooth roads of your eyelids,
your eyebrows,
the swell of muscles beneath your silky skin.
I lose myself in the hollows of your hips.
the inexplicable beauty and timelessness.
the knife-curve of your tucked calves.
I glide as if underwater down the small of your back
counting vertebrae as bubbles or fish.
I trail my fingertips across the moccasin leather
of the bottoms of your feet
and feel the ripple of power through my palms
on the tops of your thighs.
I trace the curve of your chin
with the bridge of my nose, like a kitten.
I lay my head on your breasts,
I place my hands on your eyes,
I wrap my wrists in your hair,
I balance my heart on the tip of your nose.
Archive for September, 1992
A Field of Flowers and Green Grass
Posted: September 13, 1992 in PoetryTags: Eye, Heart, Shadow, Woman
Cat Hide
Posted: September 7, 1992 in PoetryTags: Cat, Closet, Dark, Eye, Father, Imagination, Moon, Mother, Night, Sleep, Tree
I am the prickle
which makes your mother start
and cover your eyes
as if you, being young
don’t know the fear of the closet.
I am the voice that whispers
through the crack;
all that’s left when
the door is shut tight,
caressing you with words
from a green foot-long tongue,
slithering out from the darker dark.
I am the clothes that hang
from all the hangers,
swaying in the imaginary breeze
of a hanging tree in the moonlight,
the one they told you about at camp.
I am the nightmare
created by frustrated imaginations
living in the people
who inhabit your house.
I frighten your strong father
and terrify your poor mother
– this alone scares you.
I am the noise
so slightly out of place,
that each of you lies awake,
debating whether to see what it was
or go back to an uneasy sleep.
I leave your closet doors
open just a little
for you to find in the morning.
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