i push forward
impatiently
and the universe puts my call on hold
this is the reminder message tonight
the voice warm, familiar but firm
explaining the word over again
wait
the moon is waning as my frenzy
slips away with the shower water
each breath trying to bring me
to stillness before sleep
i have worked so hard to effect the stable balance
of energies within me
to project male and female in equitable measure
now the moon delights in smashing me - sailor - on the rocks
as i strain to follow the siren call of my womb
howling its potential from empty cliffs
i thought tonight of asking an acquaintance to make a retreat with me
to take me in as a friend
speak with me about thoughts
like the way our virtual lives rob us
of time to think on things deeply
i want to share stories as jumping off points
to talk all night and then walk together without talking
or walk alone and digest what's been shared
i want more than almost anything to
share a space like lovers
could we agree to raise energy together but not to act on it?
but, to be touched again... i keen for it
to be regarded as a lover
drunk in through eyes and fingertips
longing is the narcissistic wish
is love to provide an answer?
would they share that space?
how do i ask for this?
i asked you, please fuck me tonight, by text message
you didn't see the message
my attempt at initiating falls short
uninspired
a call from a place in me i am unprepared to face
unwilling to linger in
what is that place - where my biology sounds the alarm
to join with another... NOW!
irrational desire to commune
to be taken
to take in
hands mouth cock cunt
i miss this
i am soft edges overspilling my container
gather me up and regard me with a loving gaze
trace maps on my skin
the highways of my veins
visible under moon glow and warm red layers
my dog Henry is 7 now
he has seen years of my anger
sadness laughter loving
he stretches out further on the couch
i haven't walked him in days
abandoning responsibility and possibility
to distraction
frantic scrambling to force some new found
puzzle piece into the picture
one that keeps shifting, changing
but has it really?
is it any less of a question mark?
do i have fewer answers before me?
the priorities are there
just below the surface
waiting to be scratched and noticed
i am shedding
my deepest worries bubble up to the skin
form pustules
try to escape
to heal
Henry can't get comfortable
i wonder if you have been able to sleep yet
the light on my page might reach around the corner
under the door, as the sound of my stumbling did
the sounds of my pen and turning pages should not
i am not banging away on keys this time
© 2009
