Home > poem, poems, Poetry, Uncategorized > Hurricane


Don’t call it what it is,
don’t examine it too closely—
the way want arrives
without ceremony
or warning, there’s no
howl, just the flick
of fingers, a feeling
that spreads like sunset,
all color
and no shame,
an unexpected patchwork
that reads like a miracle,
and yet not—
an echo,
an unwasted spark,
a hurricane
of body and bone.

There’s always more
than one way to strike
a match, to give thanks,
to unravel
the astonishment
of desire—
but a crooked heart
always leans in one direction,
and you are a splendid
magic, a fully satisfied
smoky secret,
pushed beyond warning
into bonfire,
and this
is a steady invitation,
and imperfect,
a crack of fire
undeterred by the rain.

In the end, a mouth
can be a safehouse,
the curve of a hip
a happy mistake,
the way it feels
to laugh into a kiss
without breaking—
no self-defense,
only freedom.

Now, examine it closer,
take a naked look
at this sweet circus,
the harbor of a red mouth,
all salted skin
and rough promise—
there’s a story
deep inside, a name
in a gasp,
come, find what’s waiting
in the dark.

Categories: poem, poems, Poetry, Uncategorized
  1. No comments yet.
  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: