Thursday, March 31, 2011
My Love: V: The Flow of Sap
the flow of sap with its assuring breath, a cluster of green bursting with warm roots and fresh spray of spent desire, and in the slow avalanche of evening the darkness surrounds and with moist lips and probing tongue i found you, buried in loam beneath sheets of leaves and tender moss,
and the spring rose in your mouth and heavy eyes dark and flashing rumbled the horizon purple, and your womb contracts and heaves in the dark moist earth and you push forth seeds and sprouts as the sharp dew caresses and your green breath fills the morning and awakes my lips.
my love, the day is fire, and you are a sharp sting of grapes and flowers, you fill me with the taste of bees and and tangle of unfurled ivy and there sweetness burns me and my mouth wounded closes around the flowers of the day.
and your swollen lips move on, with the traveling of light across a bed of stone to embrace the swelling urgency of my hips, your earthy vines bind me, stings my mouth and i stumble in uncertainty with the heat of the earth.
my love, you stagger then kneel at the rustling stream slaking my thirst and soothing the cuts and wounds of my mouth, and your spring rain soaked me through and i step into the capricious water, then sit drowsily in the forgiving moss till your rain swells the stream, and i am towed to your source.