visions

In the grey light of the morning I call her back to this world
the very tips of my tips of my fingers walking
the fertile landscape of her curves. Her brain is a bird
I watch take flight to join me in the air
I summon her by the name she knows best:
the word for Apex in some dead language, and then like magic
we are there.
She forgives me for arousing her with a smile in her sleepy eyes
and a kiss. I am wild and flying and forgiven
still high off the victory of claiming her for my own
and gratefully so. Then, in a church
that we have just finished building out of darkness and silence,
she sacrifices the tears of the clown. I nuzzle my cheek against her offering
and I think of how happy I am not to be made out of steel or marble
but skin that can feel her and absorb her chemicals.
I think that I must love her, every time I love her Awake.

(3/13/11)