Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Old Love










I may need a stout rod
for the journey but
I can walk it on my own
because your skin smells of ocean
and your sea glass eyes are still
the same shade as your laugh.

I expect certain considerations:
a touch on the neck,
a brief clasping of fingers,
a kiss that has nothing to do
with a peck. An opening:
your mind into mine; an emptying:
your baggage, the polished suitcase
in which you carry your heart.

And then we fill each other gently
with secrets torn apart and shared
like bread. We spread a net of crumbs
to keep us each from stumbling
into hunger. Know that I choose
exactly this way: the way you
made your way to me again.

You may expect me
to be more of a trellis
than a blade. More of
a rich dark vein and less
of a potion misted in air.
I will keep in my heart for you
a small portrait, a mirror that shows
you standing in your finest pose.

Some seeds don't open
until fire and heat have brazed
their useless outer layers.

angelique

8 comments:

Brian Miller said...

nice...love the intimacy in tearing apart secrets like bread and feeding it to each other...and there is def truth in the last stanza...very nice...

hedgewitch said...

All I can do is sigh at this one--love poems are the hardest thing in the world to write this cleanly. Luminous, achingly beautiful, and fine fine work. I esp enjoy the third and fourth stanzas--surrender and choice, both, are very magical, and so is the instinctive knowledge of self and other in every word.

Fireblossom said...

Each stanza begins with a strong new thought, and it keeps the entire poem moving like a tide. I like it very much.

Divalounger said...

Beautiful!

There is a gentleness and a sturdiness about this piece--and lovely imagery! Bread--crumbs--Really lovely work!

@AudreyHowitt

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

What a lovely, romantic dream!

Sweet Pea said...

You picked up your silver hammer and chiseled into the complex marble of relationships with such finesse resulting in a beautifully honed verse that says it all. Very Impressed.

Robert Gibson said...

Love the entire poem - really intimate :)

Love this stanza -

I expect certain considerations:
a touch on the neck,
a brief clasping of fingers,
a kiss that has nothing to do
with a peck. An opening:
your mind into mine; an emptying:
your baggage, the polished suitcase
in which you carry your heart.

So sweet!

Lydia Fiedler said...

Stunning. The last section kills me.

Only the fireborn understand blue.

<3