This is not a poem. This is a goodnight kiss.

This is not a poem. This is not a letter. This is not a plea. This is a negotiation. This is a good night kiss. This is what I have in mind. Open slowly for me, like stitches coming undone, One at a time, soft and sweetly cut under the swift nick of the blade. Make…

Bloody Naomi Shihab Nye

Naomi says that a lover’s name gone too long unspoken turns the pink of the mouth red with the warm, metallic flavour of loss which has no word to call its own. Mine is a mouthful of blood from the split abscess of your name unsaid, I think now of love and god and all…

Take the wound

    I know hurt Like fingers know a paper cut, Like a femur in two, Like raw skin on fire. I know what it is to miss you, Beloved And I swear, I will take the wound every time.

Having a word with Frida Kahlo

Dear Frida, I once had a lover who looked at me like maybe I was magic. And I hung everything on that maybe, When they weren’t looking at me at all. Maybe you were talking about a mirror, Frida.   Because I no longer want a lover who looks at me that way. And I…

The senses of missing

    I miss you in a way that makes me forget how a thing tastes. I miss you, lover, like I have forgotten my own smell. But you like that. You like a terrifying beauty. Don’t you.

Red is another name for you

She wears crimson like it was made just for her. The other women want their money back now But it’s fine. We’ll pay them with the million we got from the way you look today, baby.

Synesthesia

You are beyond your haunting eyes. Me, my words are my eyes.   The color of my “Come home” A deep amber flecked with phosphorescence   The color of your “God, yes.” Purple with streaks of green.   My eyes think of the taste of your name Cayenne dusted mangoes surrounded by twilight at the edge…

One One One

All day long, I have not used my ears but my heart to hear the world with. I used my mind’s eye to see the beauty that hides within creation   Today I have known, The coldness of a pane of glass The warp and weft of a blood-red shirt The maze of information hidden…

The body is a puzzle

~ The sum of my years has been spent knowing your body  and learning the puzzle of how we fit and connect into each other.    The plane of your flank flush with my arm.  My face flat against your belly like a memory foam pillow.  The sweep of your back meeting the convex of my…