The Crucible of Our Love
In the crucible of our love –
the rendezvous of lost souls —
my pen earns it’s name;
my kiss holds the totality of my skill-set.
But, how do I know what’s appropriate to articulate?
My genius — the fool.
You looked at me like maybe I was magic....
But, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
Now, there is only space.
I do not reach for you when I open my eyes,
or whisper your name as I close them.
Without weapons, or war,
I can do my dishes in peace;
rearrange my furniture.
Maybe, I’ll soak in the bath,
instead of taking a quick shower.
Maybe, time heals
and longer hair would look better on me, anyway.
I’ll speak in music –
speak in tongues –
my mouth would get better with age….
You'll lose your charm....
You'll gain your peace....
You'll wipe the tears away.
Totems flow like rivers run.
You, with your horses,
your hair in a bun.
Me, my hands, the river, the sun….We were so hungry, we made bread from the crumbs