I’m not sure either of us expected each other

Yet I live in the kind of hope that starts fires,

Burns down old paradigms

Burrows beneath & finds winkling gold.

I speak the kind of language

Which opens old doors, from which voices speak in tongues

Not always complimentary, but mostly kind

From my collection of kind words – I hold these

Up to my soul which takes what is needed

For healing, repairs to the Surgery Suite

Starts implanting…then waters the growing

Brings forth Greenleaf & Flowers.

= = = = = = = = =

Putting my heart into shop:

Hey, Car, where you been? That dent has got to go,

Let’s rotate the tires, change the oil, get the

Bugs off the windshield.

I wonder at the price tag but rely on the credit I have already banked

To keep me solid, social, steering.

I don’t always want the logic I’m left with

So full-bore is the only way to go

Old habits intervene at times, I feather the brake

Wishing the downhill run

Will bring me into your opening arms.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Hell, I haven’t minded subjugation for years now

I haven’t really paid attention so long as I had a good view

Adequate response

A little appreciation.

But awakening, I find remembrance echoing,

Footsteps that too often walked away pause, turn around,

I am regarded in retro & found beautiful.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

O Lord, I have an hour before my walk at 6

Before putting out birdseed,

Before heading to potato & egg breakfast with a sore-footed friend.

I have a lifetime before life begins again

Before the exit ramp returns to the highway

I didn’t know I was on, so focused on green mileage signs

I would stretch into your embrace, take you in,

Rock you to my nirvana…summit  your Everest.

I am always ready to be loved, to become beloved.

I cannot dissociate from what my heart calls me to

Yet I can hold it out at distance

Until identified as reality I can take in.

Until I can imagine it real.

 = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Okay, so  you were right: I did think about my decisions

After you left to cool.

But space & time make the woman ponder

Imagine

So much more entrainment, alignment, recall.

My headlong rush becomes a side eye

Are you real? Can I depend upon reality anymore?

It’s changed so much over the years.

There’s a child in me calling for delight

For hand-clapping games,

A teenager watching for gallantry, awaiting desire’s tidal wash.

I hear the gates opening oiled hinges

I gaze at the prairie leading to mountains,

My nose twitches: I want.

= = = = = = = = = = = =  =

Hoping you’re not poetry-averse,

I write. This is how the holy thoughts come

The ones I can only ink into being

The thoughts that move me: that rock my world.

I set an artificial boundary

But it has taken near-forever to grow into me:

to say, Aw, hell! Come & get it!

Healing a long-neglected wound,

Ceasing an expected no-longer-noticed pain

This woman of memes, this heart now putting down weapons

Of ignoring the obvious,

Of rooting up defenses,

Opening windows, airing out.

This childish wishing to be folded into another’s body

 To become the sleek seal in your silken waters

To be brought to grace, singing.

= = = = = = = = = = = = =

I can surrender:

it is up to the man to find the woman

even ones long held hostage by doubt…

even the ones finding integration

into acceptance difficult:

it is up to you to court me

out of my judgment

to one by one switch off the alarms suddenly beeping

I remember how to follow

An untapped mem’ry, for a very long time

I remember the all of everything, an eagerness of experience –

I have recreated reality so many times

I remember how to fall & once fallen,

to open from the inside out…

How can I tell you this?

What page is it on? Where did I put that book?

Open on the bed, ready for reading & writing &

the mathematics of love.