I.
Having been held under for so long, she emerges.
Her beauty urgent, shameless.
Sparkling eyes like the glistening gold dripping from her earlobes.
She meets and holds a man’s gaze until he turns away.
The room is dark and warm and lusty,
the underbelly of some sweating beast,
heaving and sweltering,
the steady bass its heart’s rhythmic pounding.
Words come easily.
A glass of wine and a black dress.
Crowded.
Feeling his closeness—
his lips at her ear, fingertips tracing her backbone,
thighs pushing in, muscles moving and tightening beneath the collar.
So close. A tingling, a letting go, an anticipation.
Searching, longing, desiring—
seduced by sound and skin, filled with need.
Glancing eyes, nervous laughter,
limbs that cannot stop twitching.
In the dim light, drawn to her,
fingers slim and inviting,
a neckline begging for affection,
a shoulder bare and brown,
captivated by form and shape,
enchanted by color, sliced by the warm, murky nectar of her voice
Again and again, reaching for perfection.
A senseless desire propels them,
all else a distraction—
ambition, career, commitments, tomorrow.
No, just this.
All she wants – the sole thing – is to have him in her mouth.
To touch. To taste. To hear the sounds.
Oh, the body.
So she arrives
and will not be ignored. II. Aphrodite, repressed, approaches middle age
Where there would have been love
there is just absence
nothing but a ravine of yearning
cleaved by a stream of sorrow
slick stones, pebbles of bitterness, tears of flame
the only passion is in the mind
skin is the vessel through which love congeals
peaks, becomes palpable
the storm cloud darkens and aches to release its sobs
it remains untouched, my tender wound, untended
no man has awakened it from my mouth
pulled it from my tongue
searched for it in the irises of my eyes
touched me in that place, velvet and wet
my blood is made of sugar and fire
brewed to sweeten, sting his senses, burn his lips
but untasted it remains
I am a lute un-played
a song unheard
a pyre unlit
I have crossed the threshold
begun my decline
a blossom browning, curling at its edges
its scent mawkishly, nearing decay
grasping desperately for any passing bee or butterfly, indiscriminate
I have left only my lament
a melancholy, clichéd refrain
before me a girl dances at the seashore
she contains, in her lanky limbs and fresh face
and in her yet uninhabited, taut abdomen
a magnetic stone that men desire to unearth
a nectar they dream of sucking from her
a tide pulling them into her sea
just by existing, she is wanted, coveted
just by standing still, like the moon—blank and mute
but now
something is lost
that magic that men crave
as you age it withers, diminishes, wears thin
as the voice, which cannot hide its years
at first pure honey
then it wobbles, cracks at its edges, desiccates
as the hands crease and crinkle
collect brown freckles, swollen blood vessels
we can no longer hide our age with cloth, with jewels, with paint
Love, it’s an addiction
would a quarry full of nights of passion have satisfied the longing,
or would we always thirst for more?
Love, its nature is unquenchable
its nature is novelty
a ravenous beast
that desires sacrifice after sacrifice
of skin, of eyes, of sweat and flesh
sadistic, it wants to hear the groans of men
a greedy fisherman, a voracious hound
its appetite incapable of satisfaction
At the crossroads—
we have always lived for love, or its hope,
always on the path of its discovery
restless mariners
now we must find another reason to exist
don’t hold onto the past that has slipped away
the memory of our young face
there can only be pain and regret
don’t look expectantly for that thirsty gaze of men
it exists no longer
we must turn elsewhere
Our faces broaden with middle age, thicken,
we become more of who we are,
a more concentrated version of ourselves.
In old age, the face and body sag, dragged downward,
anticipating our fast-approaching journey to the soil, to the seas.
Become what you are, what you are meant to be.
Then let it go.
This can be cruelty or relief depending on the color of your mind.
No, there must be a new beginning,
a transformation
beyond vanity, beyond body
an admiration of the beauty of my own soul
buried deeply in my form
an essence of spirit
leaning closer to God
shimmering on the inside
with his ecstasy.
