what he said

he said that I am ravishing

that I would make a bishop kick through a stained-glass window

that he wanted to kiss every single freckle on his way up my arm to my limpid green pools

and I am enchanted

but he keeps me waiting,


maybe because he feels that I am still searching

and maybe he is right

and yet, this man

this man with his romance. controlled passion, mystery and ability to hold me without touch

this man may just sustain me

write a new lexicon that seeks to define me

a vocabulary that finds new ways into me

perhaps even rewrite me into a woman who could be described as satisfied


she could have been more convincing

more willowy or fey

but, still, her soul was expensive to keep

and in its need for poetry and favorable attention and beauty and the brush of hard fingers and abandon

she was a woman: a bruise, a promise, a story and a song

rather than some delicate creature archly situated at the bar of that night’s choosing


today I am

shaking the tree

raining my seedwork

on the ground

waiting on spring

for life new

and vining

for the storms

of contentment

as it is in energy and power

that I achieve that quiet state

that stretch of resonant story

that provoking connection

you just wasted my

precious time, but

what other kind

is there

garden and girl

out there

suspended and succulent

catching light

waiting on the heat


peach tree, pepper tree

which one my origin?

they twisted ’round one another

sweetening and biting the man

who picks me

wrong again

this man

how he moves me

inhabits me

confounds me

loves my body

and finds peace within me

I love him completely

the way he looks at me

touches me and just

makes the world go away

he is the one I was meant

to find

and love

with all that I am


she will have a moment then

composed by storm

the thrown heat of it

at land’s very end

twisted root buried below her feet

she will bend to it

and dig

to find reflection

and  newness

hold it in her hands

something that was millions

now one