Sunday, May 13, 2007

We're Busy

storms throw tantrums all around us
sharp rain slaps our faces blends tears
already there
no peace
elusive comfort a bird that can't be caught
we stagger into love
a grass hut made of blended bodies
warm palm cradles my head
soothes me like a child
other hand delights my breast
awakens adores
distracting pleasure
makes rain possible to ignore
pleasure fills my senses
tells pain to wait in line
we're busy.

1 comment:

Eleutheros said...

This is a delightful poem about the power of sensuality to heal.
I enjoyed reading it and hope to read more of your work as you feel led to post it. Thanks for sharing it!