april 2010

pleas for perfection (are rarely answered)

two nights ago i dreamed of you
telling me that if i wanted you to make love to me,
all i had to do was vocalize it.
and you made that sound so simple.

i want to love you so badly
that the feeling spreads in waves
into the valleys of me, tsunami to my indonesia
crashing violent and all-encompassing over my shores,
splashing my shoes.

i want to wash you in my affection
and pat you dry with my longing.
i want to muddy you with my need–
i want to love you without it drowning you, too,
because one of us submerged in this is too many as it is.

i stand next to you and keep my arms around myself
for fear that i grow too large in my love
and will break every dam i have erected,
storm all the walls between us and carry us both somewhere unknown–

i fear your noticing even the steady drip of it
trickling out of my eyes and ears and mouth.

i want to be strong like you,
and love you from afar–
i want to not need to be close,
i want not to burn and blister when your fingers leave my skin
for whiter sands;
i want to come to you in months
aloof, cool, collected
and without the scars from this battle lingering where you can see them.

i do not want you to know how hard i am fighting
because i never wanted to be a soldier in the first place and you knew it.

i want you to touch me months from now
and not feel the tremor that shakes me–
not to know i am a natural disaster tearing up my own land
without your gravity to hold me in check.

i want to be your marble statue,
the perfect lover attached by only the thinnest threads
instead of these netted ropes and vines–

but i am as new and unhardened as modeling clay
and far less malleable.
i can’t be your moonlight tryst;
i am too much the sun.

in mocking hoover, made deserving

to keep from bursting confines
from melting at your every look
and seeping out,
whispered ribbons of self
snaking down these walls
until every lock rusts and snaps,
every hinge unfastens, flung outward
and catching some unsuspecting passerby–

to keep from washing in heavy waves
more undesireable than menstruation
(despite willingness to fly on red wings)
over your city, and drowning it all in my joy,
in my anguish and my anger

i press my fingers hard into my bones,
pinch my corners tight
and seal it all with rubber cement.

i will not spill out of myself
to stain your canvas–
this i promise you;

this, i can offer.

hey boy

hey you– hey sunup lover,
hey fingertips on brown sugar skin in gray dawn
stroking soft and slow and light
like sheets dragged gentle across my back,
when you gonna come to me?
when you gonna leave your moonperch
and follow me here to the daytime–
when you gonna follow me?

hey you. hey sunup lover.
every day this week i been waitin agonizin moanin
with the lack of your touch–
i been rollin in these sheets, sunup lover,
i been actin a fool with my hands between my thighs
mumblin your name in my pillows–
(as if they would answer me)

and you nowhere to be found
when the first rays dip their hands
into the wells of my pillowcase
sheets and the dips in my hips
and my spine and my knees–

sunup lover, you should be drinkin from these pools.
you oughta be drunk on me, sunup lover,
mumblin sickly sweet nothings through pot smoke
(sendin me signals beneath heavy damask curtain eyelids
with fairies dancin between your lashes),
you oughta be high off my exhalations.

but you ain’t here.

hey sunup lover,
when you gonna come back?
when you gonna come to me?