what this is

 

this happiness is wet; it tastes
like wine, like a kiss
pressed into a prayer, two bodies
like a church, home
and hope in every corner,
in every curve, all the moments
in an hour, singing.

this happiness is slick, it is
rain greeting a rooftop, the way
a look begs for understanding,
and how understanding sleeps
within every brave moment,
full with purpose, quietly
asking to be known.

this happiness is quiet, secret,
a leaf just beginning to turn,
humble as a thunderbolt,
it separates what it must, a touch
that stays long after a hand is gone,
fears bursting into flame.

this happiness is a rebellion,
and there, in a stolen beam of sun,
it began; it is always beginning;
it is always what it is,
perfect with its imperfections,
freckled with desire, fingers
on a trigger, heart like a flood.

this happiness is two hands
and an afternoon, forgetting the door
in favor of an open window,
it is untying knots while shaking,
going through, rather than around,
and running into deep waters;
this is love let out of its birdcage,
your ribcage, flying wild –
flying. Yes, that.

this happiness is wet
as a kiss – a surprise, an inspired gasp
beneath a lover’s hand.
this is why we came.
this is why we come.
this is, itself, a reason.

I’ll Show You Mine

Yesterday, a conversation on Twitter switched from a discussion about Game of Thrones to talking about our To Be Read Piles. Mine is a heap in the corner of my bedroom. I keep reading, but it keeps growing.

Because, guys, I have a problem. I can’t stop buying books. If someone wants to get me a present, nine times out of ten, I say, “BOOK!” My best friend has taken to mocking me, “I like…books.” It’s funny when she says it, her words punctuated by unshed laughter. She usually has an evil look in her eye. But I digress.

In my world, books are everywhere. They’re in the attic, in the closet, under the entire bed, on the bookshelf, and piled on top of my dresser. The bookshelf in my bedroom looks so overrun that it might border on furniture abuse.

So far, this year, I’ve read the following:

• Game of Thrones
• Clash of Kings
• Storm of Swords
• Feast for Crows
• Dance with Dragons
• Wicked as They Come
• White Cat
• Locke and Key: Crown of Shadows
• Shine
• Faerie Winter
• You Deserve Nothing

So, yes – my name is Ali, and I’m addicted to books.

But my To Be Read Pile is an unholy monstrosity. If it ever becomes sentient, I’m done for. Below is a picture, but – quid pro quo, Clarice. If I show you mine, I want you to show me yours. Take a picture of your To Be Read Pile. Blog about it. Tweet about it. Share the addiction.

The books: Sky Burial (Dana Levin), IT (Stephen King), The Shining (Stephen King), Wandering Fire; Darkest Road; and Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay), The Princess Bride (William Goldman; read previously, but a zillion years ago), Strip Mauled (Ed. by Esther Friesner), The Haunting of Hill House (Shirley Jackson), Love and Other Impossible Pursuits (Ayelet Waldman), The Forest for the Trees (Betsy Lerner), the Last Unicorn (Peter S. Beagle — which I’ve already read, but not since 1998), Hit or Missus (Gayle Carline), Something Borrowed and Something Blue (Emily Giffin), Divergent (Veronica Roth), The Haunting of Maddy Clarke (Simone St. James), Guardian of the Dead (Karen Healey), City of Fallen Angels (Cassie Clare), The Name of the Wind (Patrick Rothfuss), Anna Dressed in Blood (Kendare Blake), The Shattering (Karen Healey), Shatter Me (Tahereh Mafi), When Maidens Mourn (C.S. Harris), The Unremembered (Peter Orullian), The Night Circus (Erin Morgenstern), The Winter Palace (Eva Stachniak), The Girl of Fire and Thorns (Rae Carson), all the Sandman comics (Gaiman), A Girl and Five Brave Horses (Sonora Carver), Tam Lin (Pamela Dean) and Locke and Key: Keys to the Kingdom (Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez).