Tag Archives: lovers

It’s Been So Long

She touches my face.

I do not flinch.

I do not pull away.

It’s been so long.


She kisses my cheek.

I flush and feel warm.

Face, chest, burning blood.

It’s been so long.


“I love you.” She whispers.

I wrap her tight in my arms.

I feel safe. She is home. Sanctuary.

It’s been so long.

Mountains Rise From The Plains

He anoints her womb, the belly skin,

with holy water unblessed.

He anoints her, blesses her,

not with authority, only his love.

He anoints her, maybe a mother

to be, maybe staying in South Knoxville.

The river, dirty and dark, under the bridge.

The clean water comes from the rain.

She takes his hand, his hand still wet from

the anointing, choosing her as queen.

Touching is a prayer of trust, and angels

fear it the most when they whisper prophecies.

Henley Street becomes Chapman Highway,

or it can go into the interstate, mountains or plains.

Plains where she came from, outside Lincoln,

the wind blowing the seed into her womb.

The mountains where he called down angels,

angels for prophecies, or what the light stole.

The clear pools of water, her anointing, her pride,

and his heretical grace; maybe she’s a mother to be.

The mountains rise above the plains, but we cannot

raise above soft mad skin, grace a whisper on a sunbeam.

She tells him on the plains the Angel of Death left his hand,

and asked for the hand of a simple prairie queen.

He tells her, the witches are clean in the hills, and prophecy

is to guide the light into your heart, not what is yet to come.

The clear water in the pools from the rain, anointing her womb,

and what may come yet, a vision of hope and a gamble.

He kisses her softly, and she runs her fingers through his hair.

Evening colors, she anointed as queen, maybe a mother to be.


Stained glass of the church;
Jesus turning water to wine.
You are angelic in cobalt hue
I know only that you are mine.

The evening is falling, a year gone.
We sit in the pew. I hold you near.
I want to ask you to marry me.
I’m not sure your answer my dear.

Cold in the sanctuary of the church.
What prayers do we know for lovers?
I love you, with all the light left in me.
I love with all my broken prayer covers.

In that dim, sumptuous blue we kiss.
Tenderness touches our sacred light.
I hear your whispers when you sleep.
I listen for their softness, awake at night.


Ice cream blonde, hair bright, a silken halo falling down


over her American Flag bikini top.




She laughs and smiles like a child, writing her name in the dark


with the burning sparkler.




Even know, after it all, she laughs and smiles like a child, so free,


in this sweet moment.




Fourth of July and the sky explodes in color and fire and smoke,


and her halo shines back it’s light.




Independence Day, maybe we’ll be independent of the past,


of mistakes and the things that hurt us.




Declare we are one now, again, and the sweetness will come.


Maybe we’ll make love…




…….really make love, with tenderness and hope and softness,


and actually grow close in a touch.




The sparkler reaches it’s end, and she exclaims, asks for another,


to write her name in the dark again




where it will last and be eternal and kept and cherished by all.


Let this be Independence Day.


My Lover Has A Serpent’s Kiss

Bad dreams. Always bad dreams. Frantic. Exhausting.
I sit outside. Smoke a cigarette. Wait for Armageddon.

Nuclear silos nearby. Word could come. Arrogant fire.
Give an ape a match and he’ll always burn the jungle down.


My lover is still sleeping. She says The Fey will come for us.
We’ll live underground and be young forever and not burn.

My lover, while we were drinking, showed me the scar.
Scar on her belly. The aliens caesarianed her hybrid baby.


Fire. Nuclear fire. Big atomic blaze in the sky. Keeps us warm.
Fire. Nuclear fire. We flicked the flint on the sun. Burn ourselves.

The sun keeps it’s distance out of love. It’s generosity could ruin.
We bring it here. We make it here. Stupid, hate filled apes.


My lover calls a name in her sleep. His name. The one before.
The Fey feel distant. Like the heart I spray painted on Pluto.

My lover has a serpent’s kiss. The sweet venom gives visions.
I was beyond all space and time. And then I came down forever.


The sun. The Bomb. The Fey who might come through on a dare.
What was a kiss in the sky ends us with a fist on the earth.

My lover reads my thoughts, when the reels runs out on her dreams.
An intimate invasion. I saved that one word for my True Spirit: