Where have you gone?
Your silhouette left a black glove behind on the train
disembarked solo, fled into botched dusk, carved hours
turning in velvet, wet fingers playing rivers, oceans
I searched, I rent my skin, down on my knees, squinted into darkness
when I lay alone in bed I roved my body to find—
that kiss bestowed, the wonderment—once a girl, turning woman
flowering into you nelumbo nucifera from the family nymphaeaceae
—flooded sediment, containing seed, broken open
glimmering, pearlescent, the pulsing urge: Swallow
you bequeathed me joy with the tip of your rummaging tongue
a thousand petalled lotuses, sacred beneath you: Morphine
I live nothing without you, broken fouettés— disarticulated—no part of me burns
I am cold volcano, dormant pitch holding no sway
a killing stone, widow-maker—suppressing and exhibiting.
Clocks lose their manic-depressive hands, time banished, parched by drought
ruined purpose, consuming memories the way hours work backward;
in recollection, you touch me, I am awakened, the bronze movement of us
smooth against wood, etched over and over, gold leaf paint
fitted into thin groove, you lend me breath, parsed ecstasies
your mouth the furnace, I erupt, we writhe entwined—
supple in formation, infinitum love, wrought tender
I say no, you hold me tightly, until no, no, no— le lit défait
perpetual shape of us—never separate—stop—more
pain is the pinch of your mouth wanting —
joy—the burst of a hundred spent muscles dissolving
fir trees shut from light, stir redolent, in cloying air
the smell of balsam and resin, your belly warm and soft
stillness of pain pressed flat and quiet, we stir—
perpetual—memoir, ink, idol
rise, in search of lost time.
Where have you gone?
(*à la recherche du temps perdu, ‘In Search of Lost Time’ first coined by Marcel Proust).
This is so sensual and beautiful all at the same time.
Again, holding my breath all the way to the end. Beautiful passion.
Powerful, punchy, language
Oh, the sensory symphony… I would eat this in place of a madeleine anyday. 💜