When Father Danced

Another winter waited in the hallway -
to corrupt you with its touch.
I saw you rise, tears in your eyes,
you didn't look at me when you looked at me.

"Make way", said I to myself,
"let his shame walk out, unnoticed."
Father, if there is a man I have loved,
it's you.

But you were to break free that day.
You disappeared before my eyes
when I saw you dance to the music
that was within.

Never have I loved you more
but in that moment -
bravest man, freest man,
you freed me of the feeling of loss.

Look Who's Wailing Tonight

I drowned a man
in the sky.

I was twenty and pretty -
Saturn in her slanting hat,
I was dance in a glass bottle,
I was to break free.

And he,
a poet. That's all.

I worked him a rhyme
and pierced him, all right.
He sang me a wail
and took from my lips,
desire.

And then he made me question
him, "Do you love me?"
Look, I had to kill him.

So I pushed him into
the blackness. More than a murder.
No fingerprints.

I am an open book, people.

I never keep any secrets,
but from myself.

Eternal

Born of the same fire,

two flames, entwined,

their destinies.

Chained, as if,

to a free fall,

they orbit the pyre,

not seven times,

but incessantly.

Untied, they meet

in transit.

They meet, half - eclipsed

by Time and Space.

Their touch is what,

if not an imagined kiss -

fire in the distance, tickling

without having touched at all?

They cross paths and

Time is stunned.

Unfinished

Triangle:
Free, we're three -
you and me.

You, when you're 'you'
and I, when I'm 'me'
are only us, some degree.

And at times we climb
the pole of oneness,
a triangle to be.

Then we slip,
slip away, again
into ourselves.

Never a Story

What was it about his eye -
an eye but a tomb?
Beckoning, then thwarting
that 'life' about me,
he only let death
in his room.

Gore.
I saw him leak a colour
one night.
He almost touched me
with the eye.
Naked,
but for that stain about me -
I crawled out of sight.

He followed me
to my mind,
Love and Doom.
Red,
I ran away,
away from the gloom.

I keep the stain today -
I am a book that has been read.
But for my invisible nudity,
Gentlemen, I am dead.

Beholder and More

Perched on my face, these two pacific birds -
your eyes sit on me, a new awareness...
a gaze that sculpts me and catapults words;
a look that's poetry, a freeing harness.

You gather me an autumn memory -
I'm thousand maple leaves that take refuge
in this road to self – discovery,
you create, and I, ‘become’ the deluge.

Two beaks that undo the limits to skies -
where are you taking me, lovely light?
Is this the ‘beyond’ where you found your eyes?
I feel… feel almost beautiful tonight.

Hope you won’t abandon the nest you create
…and then to territories new migrate.

One Love

I, who worked him into a sculpture
of perfection; carving him an inch every night -
I, who tossed a fish at his sight -
had only wanted to be worshipped.
In my being a worshipper, I was,
I was it. And I was.
And then I threw this sculpture from a height:
I was scared of love.

Broken, it lay abandoned
but for the vulture on the top -
What was it? Who was it?
I reduced him to a vulture next,
a vulgar appetite, 
scavenging what might
have become love.