Coming On Powerful
A collage from memory and touch
i could make you move
we mingled
thrust in the dark places between
white sheets grabbing
stretched limitless until
we hit that descant.
heartbeats high toned
hands like i’m the piano
you the player.
percussion blankets beat
lyrics, double-timing
a storm of pillow fuzz into
nape and lobe.
skintight fingers find my
chords, your strings stay tuned
always taut, never quiet, never still.
our songs landed somewhere
else except when bedded
when shadowed
by the forest posing into
black and white stills,
prints just for us,
pheromones on the bus,
laying a woodland chamber.
skin slick bathed in rain that drills
itself through our openings.
hungry cradled positions
i remember like yesterday
laying the dunes
darkly avoiding the rocks,
and sand, and sea oats.
the camera exposed us,
mooning for a time.
the few regrets i’ve conjured
caress and cry me back to our cities
and pastures, strung up tents,
playing rafted rivers,
slummy tenements, oceans, and highrise,
coming on powerful
like flooding,
tearing me apart
like your tears.
