With knees bent
I sit contemplating
swift quick jabs from my pen
across my chin
wanting something every second
of that beat protruding
slightly more into my gum line
where echoes jump and catch me hearing
and lead me to a long time ago
in a tiled blue bathroom
where I sat alone against the only empty wall
rocking ... waiting for something to ...
that took me out to the next scene
where I fell into a lovers arms
his eyes, his hair, his unshaven,
but smooth silky ...
all that hollow contemplating, glistening
against the back yard flood light
by the water in front of me
and yet further away
a lone solid old oak tree loomed ...
that hammock, that dock and rocking
daring me from its stretch of darkness
shifted around and all its leaves
looked like hands to me where the sky
above peeked through the gravity
holding me arched when I came alive.
All was what I pretended and perceived
to be that I wanted something ..
and I put down my legs and let go of my back
where he buried his face.
His force ... and saying things
that are branded in me now
when I bite down hard on my pen ...
wondering about that tree.
and that finally he begged
and in that blue and tangled
beneath all that, inspiring me
to love all those reflections ...
that I still continue to long for
that surrendering, adjacent
to that simple holding of a hand
that succumbing to
forsaken and feared lost in the shuffles,
of when acceptance conspires
after that redeeming and suddenly captioned
that it's all going to really be all right.
There's a 'holy shit' in there somewhere!
And willingness ...
to go down on, servitude
and all that silently shuffling along
as if it's important.