Clicking. Liminal.

One February

such highs and lows through the day:
a day of songs
in sunshine cooked at the edges.
someone leaving and a draught of sadness.
holding yourself back.
poetry to lift the corners of your heart.
mails unsent; a book on jazz;
tears unspilt in deceitful waiting.
a discussion where you hold your own.
cryptic loving messages and a roll on the
comforter.
conversations nose-high in the air
heralding love.

Pets 1

My tomcat lover with his feral need
opens his paw to me, his eyes glazed
with desire, lips parted beseechingly.

I'm dry and furry as pot-pourri and
knock down his insistent charms with
a swipe. So he holds my hands and

imagines our lovemaking, with a closed
concentration, his hand moving faster
and faster in its steady rhythm. He

bites his lip; he swallows my lips; he
swallows my hands all over his body
exposed to me in its cinnamon litheness.

And I urge him on to his release
as tensed as his beating heart.

- Dedicated to Marge Piercy

I want you

I want you
to understand all my soft spaces
all the soft parts of my body
I want
to trust you
with the soft parts of my body

I want you
to hold me

I want
to let go of my soft parts
I want you
to hold them safe for me