Feathers And Flame

Your heat is immense,
forging my metal
from sword
to eagle.
I take to the sky
gorge myself
on your inferno,
swallow you whole.

Your flames
my horizon,
my wings,
the sun.

I pirouette
on your tongues,
you protrude, extend, reach,
meet me
in the heavens.

Your oath to heat
my freedom in flight
fuse into a planet,
a union
of feathers and flame.


I’ll Be Anything You Want

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
a grain of sand, a panoramic view,
the thirteenth bar in a twelve bar blues,
I’ll be your Mills and Boon, I’ll be your mews,
If only you will love me.

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
a fortune teller, your yoga teacher,
your secret agent in Argentina,
a roadie, a mystic, your opera singer,
if only you will love me.

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
Your coldest night, your warmest coat,
a buddhist monk, captain of your boat,
your water diviner or celebrity of note,
if only you will love me.

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
a megalomaniac, invader of Zimbabwe,
your weather vein, writer of your play,
a politician on the make, your DJ (remixed),
if only you will love me.

Flowering Fable

Fold me into your nook
like a flower pressed in a book
that we will always write.
Hold me like a phrase
that swoons across your page
and pollen bursts our night.

Kiss me like a poem
with words we use so seldom
whose power dethorns the rose.
Touch me with just one letter
like the simplest flower gets her
down the spine of our prose.

Lay me down like a petal
in our words, let me settle
naked on the kitchen table.
Caress me with your word play,
rhyming me until I splay
between the covers of our fable.

For Every

For every field of battle,
for every kilojoule in anger,
for every hurt out of love,
for every night of tears,
for every laugh to humiliate,
for every blocking from pride,
for every word in distrust,
for every deed of resentment,
for every lie – period!
For every shout from rage,
for every love that wasn’t,
for every glance in disgust,
for every lash from the tongue,
for every slam in frustration,
for every minute of bickering,
for every burst of impatience,
for every one who wasn’t you,

I’ll kiss her 1,247 times
and I won’t be counting,

I’ll listen, listen, listen,
then kiss her tongue,

I’ll carry her to our bed
and follow her instruction,

I’ll talk, talk, talk,
until she says I got it,

I’ll get down on my knees
and anything else she wants,

I’ll take her to the moon
on Sunday afternoons.

Now…where is she?