The Game

His knight invades,
Gallant conqueror of my defenses.
Briefly I waiver, intoxicated with
His exquisite intentions.
Catching my breath, I slide my Queen
Across the threatening squares,
Her sacrifice testimony to
My unspoken desire.
We thrust and parry,
Purpose yielding to passion,
Cool deliberation overcome by
Subtle intrusions of mystery.
The boundaries of the board
Cannot contain the spirit of the game,
Its hidden agenda to merge
The black and the white,
To render oneness from
Irreconcilable opposition.
The play intrigues, enchants, infuriates;
Seduction of the Soul.
Only capture of my King
Brings release from this
Sweet anguish, this aching rapture.
Momentary relief, as he begins again,
Begins once more to know me,
To captivate me move by move,
And mate me with his smile.

~ May 1995

But For Trust

For romance, I would dance across the broken shards of my richest dreams,
Twirl bleeding toed, the grace of an angel, smiling, smiling, blissfully smiling.
Wrap my eyes in silly sweet visions, your dark mission masked with
Flying-into-your-arms fantasies of letting go, drowning down into love.

Wipe away my tears of joy, choke me with your tangled, haunted fears of oneness,
Gulping, gurgling, gasping for air, my cry but chance to strangle my impulsive voice.
Forced into my soul, your raw reality incinerates my virtue, once and for all.
The raping of my mind with this consuming lust begets my transformation.

But for hope, I would run away, crumple-faced, eyes hidden, tearing at my napalmed chest,
Turning here and once again there, shrieking at the injustice of my confused torment.
If not for strength, a jaded student I would be, victim of my lover's carnal frailties;
No learning, learning, learning of my chosen path, from top to bottom, bottom to top.

'Tis peace and wisdom whispering, whispering, softly whispering, calmly accepting,
There is no choice of which reality to know, but only to embrace it with the same passion
As the one foretold in American dreams of picket-fenced family and happily ever-afters.
The verity of pain is no less vital, no less the handsome bridegroom for my virgin heart.

If not for you, I would harden, frozen-stoned, crystalline queen of must be's and oughta have's.
What is mine I've kept within, have enfolded, turning back on my tail-swallowing self.
But for trust, I would paddle glidingly across the still, gelatinous waters of half-truths,
Never knowing the power of flesh-ripping rocks, nor the mind-numbing force of winter winds.

Nor my own lustful retort ... Encore, encore, toujours encore.

~ December 2001

Vesuvius

What now in this night presses hotly against me?
Quiver to awakening, this lust brought to life,
erupting through my red silk drapes.

Hold back, don't flow, stay the burning breath;
Let it not escape me. For a moment yet, might I
Suspend these sweet seconds of submission.

Release! Discharge! Out the screaming juices!
Let go this liquid fire. Once pink pastel, my
Surrendered flesh blisters with the molten rush.

Vesuvius between my thighs.