way to get a girl going

and leave her hanging…

like a ripe piece of fruit

catching light

sweetening

waiting

falling

soft

to

u

you follow me with your eyes

whilst you sleep

and

i feel

every intention

and excursion of you

“there is nothing in the desert

and no man needs nothing”

a double negative

(as the two noes cancel one another out)

generates a positive

but what, then, of three

a trinity

what i named this image

gathered from the ocean’s edge

on the third day of march

am i the crafter

or the craft

the artist or muse

or something i cannot name

but perhaps

ennui

or esoterica would serve

no man needs nothing

everyman needs everything

but what of woman

what does she need

a strong hand at the small of her back

or has she a trinity

or is she a trinity

and do you believe

those eyes

is what you say

those eyes

because they draw you inside

through the tricky green

into this woman

into her quixotic

into her magic of softslowness,

dark honey and persimmon,

contradiction, errant thought

and, yes, you arrogant beast

submission

never proper

not inside

and i won’t salute what doesn’t feel flawless

just there

inside my awareness

like the dust of astronauts

or whatever it is that they pursue

he’s there at my curvy edges

solid, strong

quiet

thinking about me

my femininity

all the lovely things he doesn’t yet know about me

but still wants

petal-soft

petulant

honydewdipped

capable of creating the most sweetly ruinous sort of longing

whilst speaking to you

whilst skimming your skin

whilst learning everything i need to know of you

your salt and solidity and

the taste of those that came before me

which i will

silkily

spellfully

make you forget

the anger is gone

the sadness is not

i want to dance for him

i can feel it

the pull of his eyes as they follow my body

soft and serpentine

as he sits quietly

the city lit and breathing behind him

today i am quiet

curious as to whether he might be thinking about me

as he walks through his city

breathing and lit

i keep re-experiencing him

and the same words return to me

because he is magic, strong, sensual and tender

he fixes me

in the only space we ever share

that which is, in those moments, our bed

soft, dirty and utterly removed from the shattering world

that has broken and re-broken me

and keeps leaving me breathless

seeking air and light and traction

the ability to feel the whole of me

undisturbed

impenetrable

and exquisitely open

all at once

which is how he fixes me

with his skin, his sound, his smell and the power of his empathetic attention

because with him

i can stop