This winter does not limit us; you’re not
a seasonal delight:
Oh, let us harvest
love forever; in all weathers, times,
and seasons. You and I, together.
I want you; all of you. I want to take
you to the top of mountains and proclaim
my love is mine until the thunder echoes
me and lightning paints your name upon
the clouds. I want you in my heart; I want
you in my bones; I want you in my past
and present, future, too; I want you here;
I want you everywhere I am. Dear god,
I need you to be mine; won’t you be mine?
You are a hidden city, lost beneath
the waves of sapphire seas, each drop a gem,
but you more precious and more plentiful
in beauty, even where you lie upon
the ocean’s deepest valley where the sun
has never shone. I’ve seen you in my dreams,
my home, I’ve seen you in the sand and salt,
and I am coming.
Help me understand
your alleyways and spires. How will I see,
how will I breathe? The water stings my eyes;
I close them. Water fills my lungs; I breathe
it in. I panic, lost, I cannot see;
the darkness blankets me, the ocean pulls
and crushes me.
I feel your colour on
my eyelids, soft and sweet. I taste your breath,
its intake draws me, exhale cleans me, voice
of sapphires in your sighs. Now drowned, I see
your city open up before my touch.
May I explore? May I know more? I will
not fight your earthquakes, I will ride their backs
and watch the towers dance and strengthen in
Your city needs no visitor,
so I will stay; and since the sun cannot,
I will illuminate your beauty.
You are a vintage when I miss you, rich
red heady wine, a rush of softness in
my mind, my inhibitions falling fast
asleep or diving headlong into vein
and pulse to pound against my heart. “Go forth,”
they cry to tears, “go forth and kiss his lips,
remind him of the touch of warmth he dreams
of always touching.” Oh, the longer you
are gone the richer pours the wine, the darker
falls the grape, the thicker fall my tears
until they taste of ecstasy and pain,
when oh, I wish they tasted more like you.
Cold winter kissed us in between the rain
of autumn’s draining; into earth our hearts
withdrew, to wait the coming spring: its warmth
and promises of closeness. Winter holds
our eyes but deep beneath the creaking roots
of shedding trees our hearts are waiting, hot
and patient; for the future of our joining
buds with bumblebees and golden sun.
Until that time, in winter soil, we’re one.
My car leans heavy to the right; the tire
is going flat, I think. I’ve never really liked
to drive, but when I’m in the car
with you it’s kind of pleasant: moving there
from here with you, a destination in
our minds but present company upon
our eyes. The company of trees, in quick
oil painters’ horizontal strokes, outside
the windows, nicely frames our loneliness
inside the glass, together separate
from all the movement passing by behind
our thoughts as we are still, though moving towards
our future. When my hand slips off the wheel,
it finds a partner hand to hold in yours,
and when my eyes slip off the road, they find
a boundless well of love to match in yours.
I’ve never really liked to drive, but I
like going places with you.
A light fall rain paints autumn colours in
the still warm lamplight of the room. You lie
curled up beneath a patchwork blanket, soft
and quiet. Skin like summer clouds, exposed
beneath a fallen veil of hair, and tears
like April pollen draw my heart into
my lips, inspire it speak, and beg your voice
to answer. Like a dreamer on his back
upon a hill I see the beauty in
your summer skin, and like a bee upon
the wind I feel the voice of wisdom in
your April tears. I breathe within your soul
of love and comfort; you inspire within
my breast, a breath of life and careful touch,
a patient voice of wisdom in my heart.