lacing the void with your scent;
until you were more scent than you
your words a dummy trail –
crumbs, leading to an empty room
where the sound of each syllable in my ear is more real than your fingers
this space, so full of un-you,
how does it live so brightly without even one particle of light?
you are far from here, and so am I;
a story frozen in pictures.
I stand, naked
asking the moon the way
but moons are made of longing.
I want to be led down a river
where your standing is my swimming, perfectly navigated
and our meeting is the effortless death of our dreaming
I want to crash through the floor in a freefall of expansion
singing the tune of joyful beggars and saying grace to our crackings open
I want to gaze in the face of the lion, kissing and rubbing her ears,
knowing fierce is will and will is juice and juice is firing the pistons of my shouts of joy
I want to ooze into your cradle
where our entwining is a sacrifice on the alter of consciousness
and surrendered breathlessly to the movement of tides,
where our sweat is a baptism
and our skin teaches us where we don’t end.
you pull my cord,
and I sink into the slow knowing that we are both here always,
following trails of words and doings and silences
incapable of moving away from this place
where god is reclining,
waiting patiently for us to notice our perfection.