I’ve mocked you, grinning,
for the ginger in your beard.
And I’ve poked and pulled the dark hard hairs
which surge up from your face.
I’ve worn the grazing rasp
of stubble on my face
(and on my neck
and on my breasts…)
And once (a secret)
tweezed your glinting stubble
from my hands
from my caress.
Yet sometimes, when I stare
(I know my staring disconcerts you)
I hardly see the shadow of your beard
instead and only—
the softening cushions of your lips,
the gentle planes which strain to softness,
which smile in repose
which dance against my own
We’ve loved a summer now,
and words have scattered in your sight.
That surge towards you in my heart
pulls smiles, not words, to kiss my lips,
and sighs (and—god!—those moans) to
echo in my throat.
I gasp your words in place of air,
yet trace my scattering phrases
in my touch upon your skin.
And now—and now—
as you sleep on Skype,
and snuggle in my pixels,
my heart pumps words within my veins.
And silence flows with feeling now articulate.
And caring comes in whispers
of my pen upon this page.
It scares me, now,
to see the youthful vigour
of my mind’s imagination,
when, as a child, the forests seemed like home.
The danger of an innocence
wrapped in perils all naivety can mend.
To see the stormy waters
as bronze crests my hands would calm,
to sooth-en melted gold.
For now, I see, my peace
is stirred instead, in stillness,
as ocean torrents churn, in violence,
fast, and dash my drifting down
to slow descent, and stillness.
My peace, perfection, in that instant I inhale you.
Foreign, you yet fill my lungs,
you steal my breath, my former life
escapes, to drift
towards the crests of distant waves
which, once I rode, then
crashed beneath, to stillness.
For which no child prepares solutions.
Future infant, blossom in the fall
I sense you on the air of coming spring
The love that blossoms with you, dark within
The scent of change that stirs now over all.
Budding in me, feeding from my roots
How can I love or yet keep you apart?
Your future tendrils stealing round my heart
My life’s new path unfurled on fresh new shoots.
Cold sickness, weary, body aching, ‘why?’
Instinctive, downwards-stroking grieving thumb
Unyielding joy, its coursing pain to come
My love springs tears, new life starts with its cry.
New course of love, grief nurtured by my flesh
New strong-cast soul flung breathing past my breaths.