The Poet

They make love to half of me

Howl like a creature

With air as wings

Press against the door

Release yourself to fear

The one who thrives, the one who mimics

All unknown bridges of envy, of clarity

An inexpressible fear

that lives in the mind

I cannot go numb

I must not fall victim to the static

I lust for cherry kisses

to drink golden milk from the earth

you taunt me 

and how I ache

I doubt I know love. To recognize its existence. An unmade bed ponders you. Unfinished stanzas sit on the stairs. Next to me, who wishes to be anything else.

Time is an eclipse that holds us in its grasp

Intermingling, it transpires

Yet we delay

We cherish our mothers and brothers 

and speak love to the trees

to the sun

to our ancestors

All this love

was birthed by you.

Mirrors blind the view

A trick of distortion and nakedness

Allowing the words to melt in my lips

Watching you tremble

I withdrew with what was left of me
Carrying fragmental sentences and embers of anguish

A whispered love welcomed me once more