Welcome Home

January 15, 2020

Every mouth you’ve ever kissed
was just practice
all the bodies you’ve ever undressed
and ploughed in to
were preparing you for me.
i don’t mind tasting them in the
memory of your mouth
they were a long hall way
a door half open
a single suit case still on the conveyor belt
was it a long journey?
Did it take you long to find me?
You’re here now,
welcome home.

Warsan Shire

I was mistaken

January 12, 2020

I was mistaken
when I said you
live in my heart.
How absurd I was
when you live in my
fingertips so that everything
I touch is you. How foolish
I was when you live in my toes
so that everywhere I go there’s you.
How senseless of me to say
you live in my heart
when you breathe in my lungs,
walk on my mind, and
drink in my mouth. I came to
pen another poem for you,
but even every unwritten poem
is you.

Kamand Kojouri

Homesick

January 11, 2020

When we love, when we tell ourselves we do,
we are pining for first love, somewhen,
before we thought of wanting it. When we rearrange
the room we end up living in, we are looking
for first light, the arrangement of light,
that time, before we knew to call it light.

Or talk of music, when we say
we cannot talk of it, but play again
C major, A flat minor, we are straining
for first sound, what we heard once,
then, in lost chords, wordless languages.

What country do we come from? This one?
The one where the sun burns
when we have night? The one
the moon chills; elsewhere, possible?

Why is our love imperfect,
music only echo of itself,
the light wrong?

We scratch in dust with sticks,
dying of homesickness
for when, where, what.

Carol Ann Duffy

melt into me

January 9, 2020

Afterward she lies nestled against me, her hair tickling my face. I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin.

Sara Gruen
Water for Elephants

Dulzura

January 7, 2020

Make love to me in Spanish.
Not with that other tongue.
I want you juntito a mi,
tender like the language
crooned to babies.
I want to be that
lullabied, mi bien
querido, that loved.
I want you inside
the mouth of my heart,
inside the harp of my wrists,
the sweet meat of the mango,
in the gold that dangles
from my ears and neck.
Say my name. Say it.
The way it’s supposed to be said.
I want to know that I knew you
even before I knew you.

Sandra Cisneros

I recede like a vanishing point on my ribboned trapeze
and trust hamstring and calf’s steady marriage
when I hang from my knees.
Physics can name the force that pushes the bar away again.
I’d call it Fortune’s wheel or Tantalus’s fruit,
but then I’m the company tragedienne —
all good trapeze artists are. I no sooner arrive than leave.
I love you, I’m quitting you. I live my life between
the two meanings of cleave.

Carrie Etter

Recreation

December 27, 2019

Coming together
it is easier to work
after our bodies
meet
paper and pen
neither care nor profit
whether we write or not
but as your body moves
under my hands
charged and waiting
we cut the leash
you create me against your thighs
hilly with images
moving through our word countries
my body
writes into your flesh
the poem
you make of me.

Touching you I catch midnight
as moon fires set in my throat
I love you flesh into blossom
I made you
and take you made
into me.

Audre Lorde

Love is selfish

December 25, 2019

My love wants to incorporate her totally, to eat her. My love is selfish.

Susan Sontag
Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1964.

loved anyone

December 25, 2019

Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you security and friendship and didn’t ask anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly.

Cornelia Funke
The Inkheart

I Am Not Yours

December 19, 2019

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love, put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

Sara Teasdale