My Body is Mine
my body is a temple
dedicated to myself
altar of venus anointed by mars
these fully human hands so powerfully divine as to
create
this power which turned grapes into wine
turned me into mine
my body is a temple
dedicated to the fully human, because the fully human
is fully god
my body is a promise
made to frightened figures hidden in the dark
declared across the world and
whispered across the counter at a bar
giggled between friends
carried through kisses from strangers
and given to our young as glimpse of their deepest desires
my body is a promise
made to all our people
proof that we will always live
my body is art
a monument of marble
galatea chiseled carefully this time
by her own design
pygmalion left behind
fantasy once again takes shape in reality
but the fantastic is now autonomous
free to create and shape and build to the beating of its own heart
my body is art
my own magnum opus
a vessel holding hope
no, there was no mistake
this experience I was granted
the feet i use to walk the path paved by the brave souls before me
are my lenses
I see the world fleshed out through my flesh
I see a dais made for only us
my body is a gift
my body is love
my body is mine
The Warmth of Friends
The string in my stomach which tangles too tight
Pulls easy apart under two pairs of hands.
Two heads of curled hair, one dark and one light,
Make hard rocks of pain into fine grains of sand.
The laughter that flows through the blood in our veins
Feels gentle and easy like air in our lungs.
Though living has left angry wounds on our brains,
We nurse them together, whatever may come.
A cardigan yellow made beautiful sounds
That brightened soft breathing on nights that would run.
The roots of our palms all entwined underground;
The shade from our leaves kept us safe from the sun.
As much of a part of me as my own eyes,
I can’t see a life where I’m not by your sides.
To the Spirits
a soft click and a sudden spark
cheap fabric pads our backs
my knees bump the steering wheel
night is a blanket covering our shoulders and
our tracks
Ash cakes the center console
“this smell is never coming out”
we laugh because our problems can’t reach
us where we’ll go
Earfquake claws its way
out of my shitty iphone speakers
flame crackling combining with tires on pavement
creates the perfect accompaniment
she turns to me and
grins face framed with smoke and street lights
our halos
“gotta give a little to the spirits”
the flame creeps up the curled paper and we
fall silent
my eyelids drift shut and i see in them
two kids just like us sitting sixty years ago
one giggles in a voice which became hers just recently as the other
hacks and sputters and chafes his still tender new chest
they pass the joint and then pass
through us
They passed the baton when they passed away and they
appreciate the weed
my heart is full with love though
our lungs are clogged with smoke
billowing out of the car and before long we
stumble out into the street
lights blur we are held
up by our new old friends
what could be more sacred than this night
is a lantern and we are moths guided
home