the dance

At a thousand paces I smell a metallic stench
of drool at the wait to macerate my privacy
innocent request by screaming silent demand
until integrity lies beside me like shredded raiment.
Let you near to lick my sacred juices with your
hot rotting deceits?
I know you, velvet hammer,
You were born of Adam.

I am millennia older than Your cronies.
In the dawn before time you worshiped
my million mothers, who died
in your untold ontogenetic accidental arrivals,
until only the Virgin escaped your rapacious claim.
Now, you and I remain. I transform you
and wrap you around me like mail:
Bite me and spit out your own teeth.
I am of the Goddess.

INTIMACY

He came up from the sofa as I walked in,

pulled me to him with a certain force,

turned up my face to his to kiss me

gently at first.

In the bedroom he took me so compassionately,

inhabiting me entirely,

gazing forever into my eyes

so devoted, so utterly in love with me.

Later we sat naked at the kitchen table

drinking coffee. When the phone rang

I knew after two exchanges it would be

a thirty minute conversation

with his hunting buddy about the deer lease.

I could have climbed into the freezer,

flown out through a wall, set myself on fire.

I had already disappeared in front of him.

I knew if I sat still, he might or might not see me

when he hung up. As it turned out,

he did and he didn't.

Critique

"When you write, my dear,

write either for yourself

or for your audience.

Words are little pictures."

See the clever man?

"You do have talent.

Images. And sense

of rhythmic flow.

But what exactly is

your goal?" Watch

the video: she curls

as if in utero.

"But if you want

to publish"...Yes?

"There's far to go."