touch

This Istanbul cold invades me,
pervading every bit of me.
I simpering shiver beneath
its so unkindly clasping, me
grasping that there is more
to this, that somewhere between
the pleasure and the pain,
between breathing and being
were moments of simple enduring
honesty—a space, a place, a time
so very extraordinary if only
because in its utter banality
it conveys such divinity—
the perfectly quiet, subtle
and unadorned moment
when the greatest significance
of life is expressed by nothing
more than a touch.

İstanbul 22 November 2021

[Thank you, Allison.]

now i see

i see
all at once
how her hand
on my arm lightly rests
caressing with such simple intent

i feel
how the air
trembles at her touch
how time itself bows majesty
before her faintly ever glowing flesh

i want
god how i need
to take her poised hand
into my very own and press it
fast against my lips longing for more

i am
so compelled
to bend reverential
to kneel before only her
to kiss this urgency from her thighs

i fear
this distance
intrinsically patterned
by days accumulating dully
like stones rising over my barrow

i pray

and wait

and listen to the trees

Salinas 18 Dec 2012