i heart elephant journal

http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/04/how-to-date-a-girl-who-writes/

once more with feeling

http://wp.me/p1Tl9F-2B

Missed Givings

Missed Givings, Still Present

he asked if I’d regret
the way he lifted me onto the couch
the kitchen table
the bed

he asked if I’d regret
the interval that barely delayed
the imminence
the succumb

he asked if I’d regret
the sweat on my sheets
the taste of his tongue
the swift pull and push

at the strike of twelve, he asked if I’d regret

and I asked myself, also, the next morning
in my solitary bed
in the awoken moment
in the collision with the sun

as my rise rapidly spun me into the new day
the drive to the airport
to taxi Jill home
to our friendship that never leaves any distance
the hours’ long breakfast, shared
with endless coffee refills
and limitless words that spill and drip
our rich cream tales
the lap of love, our girlish hearts
between sips of our sugar
two weeks apart and missing all we give
each other daily, we revel in the parallels
always aligned, an ocean apart

I think of him, tell her of him
the shivery details, the small ache
where he was just rough enough
and we laugh, grin, sigh, smile enough
to down one more full mug
of the creamy breakfast brew

with Jill here and home again
I have no heart’s room to know
what regret could ever be

it’s just love

it’s just love

i see stars, he said, stars
then he exhaled, collapsed
mouth pressed into the cleft of her clavicle
must breathe, he said
headed, too light
every time, he said
they come every time, and spin
the sweat beaded, his neck, she tasted
the crystal salt skin
as the stars, one by one
dropped from orbit
and fell
into her eyes

foot fetish (first date #3)

foot fetish (first date #3)

I am a pair of shoes and I find
that I don’t mind

once in a box
and now unwrapped
between these hands
and placed upon these soles
then laced and strapped and snapped
and taken for a stroll

I enjoy the hug and snug
wondering at how much I will fit
as he wonders at the comfort of
my tanned and oiled leather uppers
and sturdy base, well shod

shall I be the glass slipper or
the shoe to give the boot?

I don’t mind this cobbling
Since I am as much the shoe
as I am the Princess
He is as much the Prince
as the foot as well

As we slide toes, arches, heels
into the shaped cup
cradling our expectations
and forming hopes into crevices
and curves, molded

As we step and stride
wondering at the rub
possible blisters
and if they would heal
or scab and become sores

scars
or calluses that protect
the soft inner soul on
this long walk
as our hands hold
or let go

trapped in a first date frieze

I could have been a Spanish poet
drowning in the eyes of a sea nymph
perhaps it was the light
and his black eyelashes
framing the cerulean winking
but I wanted to run home
and pull Pablo off
my bedside table
and sing sweet love songs to those azurest of eyes
instead I was a good, calm girl
well mannered, smiling, conversational
then accepting a soft and
delicious goodnight
kiss only
to return home to sink into
the full
pink pages of poetry

Passover continued…

http://wp.me/P1Tl9F-uG

I have posted Chapter Two and Chapter Two and a Half of this story. Scroll through Chapter One to get to the update. I hope you find the surreal to be a pleasant experience.

musings in short fiction form

i am polishing up a short story based on dreamy (nightmarish?)  musings in MRI tubes and neurology wards. your feedback is welcome. chapter one is up at: http://wp.me/P1Tl9F-uG  more shall follow.

first date

first date

your stunning eyes are filled only by me
reflecting the delight of falling, the thrilling dive
I see our sparks, I see my fire

I command thee: fall in love with you as they do

Gifted

Gifted (Thesaurus Game and Saturday Morning Coffee)

I make lists of words I like
I open to the middle, exactly, on accident
Page 345 and read

Prestige
Preposition
Presence

Presumably
I’ll turn to the next page
After another swallow of this rich brew

And on pages 402 to 403
The Scribe with Scruples meets the
Sculptor by the Sea
and they Secret away

Thesaurus is Latin for Treasure House
So says the tanned first page
Aged, massaged, sponged with the oil from years
Of my fingers turning the verses

I recollect age 11 and this gift from my mother
Who must have known me better than I’d imagined
Not shoes, clothes, or jewelry
She gave me
Webster’s New World

When opened, the present evoked
a fever similar in memory to
the birth of my child
our first kiss

Granted, I’d relinquish these volumes
for my child’s life
for your lips

But I’d still embrace this House of Treasure
concealed in the gift of my own
New World

Few
Fiercely
Fill

Infinite
Inflame
Infuriate
Initiate
Injure

Devastate
Devote
Dialect
Diamond

Voyage
Vulnerable

Bestow
Bewilder
Bias
Biscuit

Wager
Wake
Walk

Aerial