Monthly Archives: April 2019

Dragon fight

— Can I see me through your eyes —

What image is it that you have created for me?

— When I look into your eyes I see swirls

of mercury… tossing like waves

over my entire body, drenching me —

and I shiver… seek out the warmth

of your skin… which must radiate from the cold silver flame in your eyes

and they way you always

smell like flowers… brown sugar.

— She was strong when you were weak —

Her eyes were dry when you wept —

she made you a man — the man you are —

Now she is tired and she weeps — can you care for her?

Will you?

— Did you hear what he said about us?

Symbiotic and sickly clinging…

My God–

You are a new kind of parasite and all

you owe me is nothing you can give —

though you feed me your poison —

to make me your nourishment —

So that you may thrive and I may cry

out in my darkness, flickering candlelight

casts my writhing shadow on a wall —

from where the spectators gather to watch —

Our Battle…

Do you feel the drip in your throat —

the thudding… this is the taste, this

is the surge — of unbridled aggression.

And so begin circling one another —

heads down, eyes glaring, tails risen —

high up in the air, forked and deadly with

points sharp as daggers —

Waiting to strike — our circle grows closer

with each turn, until we are intertwined…

One now, so only one will emerge alive —

Victorious!

Thrashing together and apart!

Wounding and wounded, both of us —

Fire sprays in all direction around us…

and the watchers draw back — gasping —

We screech in agony and rage —

A bite on the back of the neck…

And it is done… We separate now —

You — fall dead to the ground — and so

the battlefield tastes its blood…

wallows in it… so I spit —

and walk away… In disgust —

yet exalted and gratified —

because —

It is finally over!

Hands

Their lines, soft and harsh

Their resilience, texture, and strength

How gentle they can be,

the intimacy they hold…

Windows to and from the heart,

They can caress, tickles, stroke, and touch.

Tell all with not a word spoken.

Arousing passion by mere sight and

memory of what they show…

Holding the secrets of our souls,

All that we are and will be,

The tenderness we feel and hard work

we do — in care of those near and dear…

Encompassing all, weighty

with emotion and brimming —

with exaltation for our cherished.

Trembling sometimes with the

fierce intensity of our swoon…

Touching, wanting to touch, unable —

to touch, they ache as our —

souls, hearts and minds do…

They are a spiritual thing about us —

more than bone and flesh and blood…