Two Poems


I see your thighs,
the dusky patch between,
dark fires ignited, promising.
I see your ankles,
alabaster white and beautiful,
pressed against me, stroking.

This is what I need,
more than eyes.
Your image keeps me sated
and content, willing,
always, to spread your truth.


¹ From “Proselyte”, one who proselytizes, and “Skelos”, the Greek word for leg.




I lit a fire
and surrounded her with my shadows
to keep her warm
a thousand shadows
to warm the embers
that remain in her heart

she was one
in whom the shadows increased, flickered
increased, flickered
when she rose
and floated across my shoulder blades
with her flirtatious laziness

and the shadows decreased, flickered
decreased, flickered when she lay down
beside me so I could please her
instead my cold hands
tempered her hips

like steel plunged into dusky waters