— a Chaucerian Roundel of passion

Our very skin now sings the storm’s refrain

The heavy downpour enters every pore

Naked— we swell into the storm’s full roar

Wind shreds the porch screen; lust can’t contain

Our lips taste like ozone, no world before

Our very skin now sings the storm’s refrain

The heavy downpour enters every pore

Bodies arch—lightning—our dam ...

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–intimate dizian exploring love's silent language

Wild ferns, we spill across our living-room floor

Wet lips cling to one leaf, our night’s sweet dew

Wandering lights gaze bodies washed ashore

Welcomed streetlights eye stripe our play’s debut

Wishful neighbor-blind gaps-–glimpse—can’t undo

Willow wands, our spines bow beneath soft snow

Wisps—rose-petals, sip our scent’s c...

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—dawn along Lake Michigan, a pantoum

Joy, the lake keeps shouting your name into the slit of my skirt.

Two knuckles, one second longer—tender squeeze.

I taste the auburn of your hair in the wind’s cool hurt.

By the time the spray hits, I’m already searching for you—please.

By the time the spray hits, I’m already searching for you—please.

Spray turns silk dress to glass,...

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Our Hummingbird Nests Of Skin
-a sestina of elemental intimacy

Sun fingers her hidden hummingbird nest of skin,
Each twig, love's unfinished sonnet, found by dawn's light.
My lips echo night’s bare swim’s wild lake water,
Our steam now swirls skyward, sisters with the breeze.
Her breathless wink, a covert quest cloaked as touch,
Then silence—inhales between our lingering drip.

Her drop...

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—a Sestina of one night shared with our sister moon

Night’s first blush leans low against the tide

that licks the sand; moonlight unhooks the darker seams of our skin.

The air stings sweet, crystalline breath of salt.

A feral moon, she leans close—silent, luminous, wet.

Her breasts dip the water; the water dips us—oh…slow pull

after slow pull—silk unraveling into constellati...

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This is inspiration from the ice breeze, and cold realisation with my love. 

Has it always been this cold?

I don't remember shivering so often. Nor my back cramping in pain.

Something is changing. Something is different. 

As weather patterns come and go, so do you.

Why?

How can it be that the amount of love I need, doesn't need me.

Doesn't come to me. Blows over my skin, ...

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Compostition of Intimacy

With fears of eternal solitude, I called truce.

Obstacles fill the atlas of our hearts, 

distracting our impressions of exquisite Love.

Our painful beliefs insist we reprieve our minds,

voiding our previously learned doctrines of romance.

Phobias of Love furiously traveled the hourglass of our lives.

Chaos constrained our philosophy of enchantment,

...

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My bed is still warm

When the next body rolls in

But I'm not

I'm numb

Until,

Your body

- Or his -

- Or hers -

Envelopes mine

And I can breathe

Because

I am consumed

I am part of you,

Of someone that lives

That moves

That loves

I am

I was

I will be

Because I'm not apart

Just a part

Of something

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