#i still carry the book in my bag whenever im low

I’m peeling off my pretence,
ripping out my wire frame -
I am without spite and without shame,
shedding sorrow like a skin,
letting winds of silence sing me to myself,
bathing naked in her body…

From where did you fall, Lady? Rain
of my roots, of my eyes, of my
feelers that fumble and rise
through a jungle of sinew and muscle,
to pry open subtle horizons
that lie in between our two patterns.

The curtains are drawn…
We’re safe enough here from the dawn,
from the scorn of the heartless,
this darkness is warming and seamless.
Our body is total and seamless.

(And though you will say I don’t mean this)

I dream just of waking,
stinking of sleep and your love,
caged from the world by your fingers and bones -
my lone understanding,
my centre of self mutilation.
That place where my body is good and desired.
I dream just of waking,
shaking off sleep in your arms.
With delight and disarm I am gradually opening.

*****