Yes

She has

Russia folded in her eyes

The girl she once was

In balletic poise and straight long neck

She carries her mother’s lips in disapproval and mirth

The tan of her father come from outside, asking for iced hibiscus

Her long hands are her own

They play instruments and lovers

With careful solitary stroke

She has the curl of her grandmother crossing brow in stray wave

A sad gaze into ether, when you catch her off guard

And I am drawn to the shy fruiting shape of her mouth

As we talk and artfully avoid

What is undisclosed in space existing

Between strangers, then become friends

Not yet more

Will she understand? Unbutton one permission

Without need to drink liquor or gather foreign courage

From the same source we all go

Unsure and burning up with tiptoeing fever

I imagine

Stepping over the divide

Between her serenity and mine

Touching the cool fawn skin of her throat

Gathering her to me, as gardener arranges posie from wild thorn

Proffering possibility like dancers, sweating and sleek bodied

Will acquiesce their motion to soft fall of curtain

I know her heart will be close to her warm skin

Cantering like a wild appalachian

I know because I see the quiver in her narrow shoulders

Feel her keening toward me as shifting current

Caught in hesitation and mute query

It is my place to shake doubt with first touch

Banish half formed fears

Replace them with mutual need

See her eyes widen and take in

The fullness of our rounding desire

We move into the other

Like music attracting and repelling

Night winds, pregnant with sea spray

Leaving flowers, shining and damp

Beneath velvet sky, emptied of noise

Lest sound of her sigh and one word,

Yes.

Advertisements

Fille sauvage

manon4You reached the river

as your hair dragged you beneath

a weight within water within echo

your thimble wrists and slender elbows

unable to resist the lure

water witch they said

girl of the mountain

purple sage

perhaps an angel

or a magi lost in olive groves

your cheeks are reddened by my regard

I wake thinking of how your body

looks in setting sun with the fine heat

behind you like a wild shadow

dancing on sombaro

you are the kind of woman few would dare to pursue

it is not your nature to stay long

in the lisping skip of your tenderness

you leave us longing without knowing

we do

dis-moi fille sauvage

de quoi donc as-tu si peur?

la vie n’est pas un mirage

nous avons tous un coeur

(last four lines Richard Anthony / Fille Sauvage)