Against the unknown world

They move together like quicksilver

indisipherable in pursuit

there is such a love in his eyes

her smooth hands cup his mouth

drinking the words he would gush

if they were not pressed tightly, one to the other

locked in an embrace

that gives life

quickening as signature is fluid

when she finds out, she imagines telling her daughter twenty years hence

the story of her conception;

your father and I loved you very much

we lay down by the fireplace, he took me in his arms

from this passion you were forged into life

clay breathed upon, bearing breath and soul

you were wanted, even before you chose

to fill us with yourself

my stomach grew and grew until

it was a tight drum on which to paint

the symbols of your dream

**

He moved in her, his eyes tightly shut

he thought of other women, he thought of touching himself

in the office toilet at lunch with folded magazine

and why such things happened when he had all he could ever want

here in his arms, still he betrayed with desires, ill-tuned to eternal love

when she grew fat and round he did not

wish to hold her quite so tightly, or touch her hot flushed pressing flesh

he thought of others, he got up early, and jogged his frustration into sweat

**

Don’t worry the doctor smiled, with a savage wink

as she labored and her face grew red and her hands sought his

and he wanted to run from the room and shove well fed nurse

against the wall and pour his horror of birth and future into her lipsticked sighs

don’t worry the doctor smiled, with a savage wink

i’m going to sew her up even tighter, it will be like

Christmas day when you unwrap her again

the quintisential “husband’s stitch”

and over his starched cloak and gown, the doctors grey eyebrows

went up and down and he, who was lost

lurched and threw up at the violence and the shame

of men and of women and of life and death, inequality and lust

**

then his daughter was born

fat and round and squalling loudly

if he could have interpreted those words, he felt they spoke to him a repromand

for his cowardice and his fears, imagining being a father

of growing up and settling down, of love and impossible challenges and joys

he saw his wife’s face, wet with sweat and hair plastered down

he felt more than he had ever felt, the emptiness of the past replaced

no longing to empty himself in the coldness of pornography as she slept

a lifetime from the day he first took her to bed and

stripped her of choice with impregnated seed

and now he knew

the fear of men is the strength of women

his daughter fixed him with swollen red eyes

watching him with a stearness that seemed to say

you can do this, you got this, you are not your worst thought

you can be who you want to be, you can be my father, you can love these women

you can direct our future, reshaping mountains

or fall into the arms of least resistance, worship the emptiness of hollow gestures

she seemed to be saying with her tiny fists and pursed lips

turn away from your shallow sport, take this road with us

he who once was weak, grew with love

those things that once were, no more

his resilience, their armor

against the unknown world

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Of needing

When the capture

is weakened

when neglect owns

no name

but like paint

faded by days 

needful of coat

then you listen closer

not to temptation 

and her guest

but the soft rummage 

of needing

notice my new dress

or the turn of my hands

as I clean and wash and pour

these invisible chores

chalked over by repetition

the line between your eyes

a quickened thunder

didn’t you buy more nutella?

this is not ironed through 

holding an outline of wrinkle 

oh so true

when love is new 

we inhabit scarcely

that fantastic vaunt 

slowly to fall

in little unmendable ways

like gathering wool

rubbed by barb

a trick of light

words shared like jewels in dark

oh the power you manifest

in one observation

worth all a stranger distorted

for it is not in the arms of replacement succor is found

but the sure tred through years holding our hems above us

strung in purposed knots, hand over hand, over hand

rubbed against stone til transparent

*I wrote this after hearing a few sad stories of people in unhappy relationships, and my wondering why they were unhappy together and why they couldn’t last and be happy together and how sad a world filled with people who no longer want to be together anymore is. I may be a dreamer but I’m not the only one who believes we hold the answer.*