Waxing Poetic

Since the internet is so slow and patchy here at the Green Village (the specific Athletes' Village in which I live during the Military World Games in Brazil), I don't have time to get a solid post up.  Instead, I decided to post an old poem I resuscitated from the archives ;)  I used to write poetry frequently; lately, I have not.  In the spirit of breathing new life into my writing endeavors, I thought sharing something such as this would be appropriate.  Plus, I feel like traveling always brings out the pensive side in me.....and pensiveness often leads to poetryness ;)

Rush

One wave, your wave….all at once….it curls up from the heart of my stomach

Floods north to the heart of my soul

Hot on my neck, a flash to my face, surprise behind my young eyes.

They open wide.

Thoughts from the left run to the right,

Right runs left,

What’s left?

Something more worn with time than mine, your reach lightly lands on the underside of my jaw.

I gasp: swift, short, soft, but my breath dances on your skin.

Then, your wise fingers spread, like a spill upon my face

Yes, your warmth floods my freckles

Now, it’s your life lines opening like a flower, a collapsing tent of touch that whispers my cheek just as both of our eyes rise toward one another’s like bodies in unison

and meet.

Locked in there

grasped by the grip of something with no name.

I bow my head, and smile with my eyes closed,… quieted.

My hand mirrors yours and our foreheads kiss.

There we linger

in the rush.