Poems flow easier when the air is stacked with lava vapor and mint
And Lucinda is singing o’ sweet despair, somewhere south-west of me.
Your essence awaits my arrival, everywhere I follow these aching feet,
Like a recurring old melody, it climbs up my torso, breaching my peace.
Feeling your breadth take residence under my fifty-something skin
I come alive, the way I’ve never lived, instantly transformed, released
Of all I fear, soothed again by energy emanating from your fingertips.
I surrender to you. I let go of the grip. I plunge, head first, into your sea.
No reassurance. No answers. No need to know our lives beyond this.
