Where It Begins

making more clouds

You ask me what words I hold in these clenched hands

so I run my fingers through your hair

and down your spine

coloring your face with the same rosy red

that already graces the ends of your frozen toes
and you ask me how it all ends

so I press my hands to your hips

and my lips to your lips

'til the sky splits open and all the light that ever was

comes pouring into our eyes

and your heavy limbs are left empty and trembling

as I float on my back through your bloodstream

and into a river and then the sea

and can you see me now?

pale and naked as the moon on the day it was made

when God thought the Earth was lonely

but it was just you

blissfully and patiently watching drops of the deepest red

trickle from your wrists

down your soft palms to the ends of your fingers

and onto the cold, bleach-white tiles

and as you smiled for the first time in your life

you prayed to God it would be the last

but once again

the arrogant Sun whispered sweetly

wake up

so you ask me where it all begins

and I pull you closer until you are no longer there

and with these hands I tell you

to slow down

and with these lips I tell you

to slow down

and just like the endless days and nights

we set and rise where the water meets the sky

Reviews

[Cathy Wattam]

This is a really good piece of poetry. Fantastic imagery. I really enjoyed it, thanks.

[Divinity Sleeps in This]

There is a spontaneity, a fluency and an easy sensuality in this that truly impressed me. It just feels like true poetry, you know?