I.

want it to be tomorrow so i can be with him

smell him

taste him

touch him

want to dream in his bed

look up at him as he moves into me

as he looks into me

we are beautiful

white bloom in night sky

entwined

blind to all that is around us

when i’ve my mouth on him he speaks quietly

an incantation

i rarely comprehend what he says

i want to know what he says

i think he once said he was going to give it to me so hard for doing this to him

i do it to him because of what he does to me

i am enchanted

want only to be with him

hidden away from the world

deep in his wood,

his arms,

his slow beating heart

II.

it is a sorcery

what he has done to me

any moment

he will come to me

his petricorian breath

his sweetbitter taste

his smooth aphotic skin

need him

crave him

and often think I’d do anything for him

there is a darkness that is within him,

beneath his earthen sweetness,

his faetherbrush touch

he looks into me, listens to me

feels me

and, god, how he moves me

inside me and

calls up the darkness

within me

beneath my peaches and currants and breath and memory and eyes and

i was strong within myself

feeling my core

but now i am wavy

drawn to him

dreaming my mouth on him

interpreting his incantations

 

but my darkness, it is growing stronger

and his ghosts

they like me

and do not interfere

with our slow deep

our dance of hard rain

because something happens there

in his dark, sunken room

of heat and lions and myth and lady ghosts

it is a seedwork,

a steeping

and it will rain

and i cannot keep going

but i will keep going

because there will never be enough

my hunger fed

only opens a deeper, older

 

hunger

 

and the earth outside

drowns

and greens

and deepens

and darkens

and

changes

 

remains recognizable