Crossings VIII


When at last you arrive and find yourself entering that certain room where mingled scents of sun and salt air remember your need, and I find myself unlived energy opening as erotic attraction in the approaching night, I become a long shadow covering your startled skin with kisses.  Receive the moist energy of my mouth, the juice of summer across your lips and nipples and down your waiting body.  I want to merge with you, my tangled hair long and brushing against your skin as I lean into the energy of all those lonely nights without you.  Diving deep into the pool of your eyes where I find myself sexual and alive as my breath catches at the ragged edge of merging.  I won’t know which of us makes those primitive sounds, that lost language of the truly drowned.  I want to explore your body like an ocean never before known by woman, and take all of you into me where, like a sail in search of wind, I fill with my own sexual water and your sweetness mingles with mine.  My body learns the sorrow of your dream by touch, no words, what you cannot deny me.  And somewhere outside of myself I hear you cry out, from the island of the holy and terrible, as we become the will of our flesh, invisible and sacred as undertow, seawater, ebbing and flowing to the pull of the moon.