Tag: intimacy

  • Why I’ll never fall in love

    Why I’ll never fall in love

    Hips pressed against my hips

    glued and interlocked

    with too-hot sun beating down

    sucking just damp skin 

    to the metal of your truck.

    Metal creaks beneath the weight

    of clumsy limbs and fumbled touch.

    We’re two dumb kids,

    too young to be in love. 

    Forget you’re twenty-seven,

    surely old enough to touch,

    for you forget to tread in open water

    and falter when it comes to love. 

    Tell me that I’m pretty, lie and say you care

    and hold me faintly in the dusk. 

    Kiss me like you love me – mouth closed-

    a tender touch. 

    Place your hat upon my brow

    and laugh when the cowboy rim dips too low,

    say how glad you are that we met,

    till I can’t help but wag my toes. 

    Watch the dusty light burn low,

    our noses dry with desert air. See the fireflies

    emerge in perfect, wholesome pairs.

    The field is empty, our skin is flesh,

    naked from our scattered clothes.

    Embrace me in the star lit dusk,

    and watch me fall a little bit in love,

    though by tomorrow

    I’ll wake once more alone.

  • Untitled from a Mountain

    Untitled from a Mountain

    Take me on a mountain top,

    brown cascades and rusty dirt lodged

    beneath our skin, sequestered

    under nails, dried tumbleweed

    scratched along my back – red white

    welts in swirled, tangled streams.

    Take me on a mountain top,

    with heaven watching down ahead

    a constant judgement brokered

    only by the stars and eagles

    soaring overhead – desert air

    100 miles over sea, a fall of dust  

    dried against my forehead.

    Take me on a mountain top.

    Take me fast or slow, long or soft,

    just make it on a mountain top,

    one with bears and antelope

    fracture our restraints with chains

    and cleave the earth in two,

    smoky ground and dampened musk.

    Two bodies merge like beasts.