Love Poems

My Not a Love Poem                           4/24/98

If this were just a love poem,
it'd mean I loved you less.
For you are love and more, my dear,
you are the feast, you are the guest.
You're everything a heart could bring,
you are my sex, you are my soul.
The are the man, woman, and child of me,
for you are me and more.
You know the silent need in me,
you are my wanderlust, my home.
For you are more than love, beloved,
you are the poet, you are the poem.


Thunderstorm Poems                               August 24, 1999

I

Summer night lighting
over phone line crackles
you whispered good night
and left me staring into
strobe light, sky-ripping wonder
at the fury of the night sky
the storm in my heart.
Cool now,
and a little spent sadness
after.

A still expected siren, far off in the night.


II

If
you were
coming
here
into the storm
I'd
have the
covers turned down
waiting
to share
the rain
with you.

No.
If
you were
here,
coming
into me
while the storm
crashed
over us
I'd
wrap my
legs closer
around
and let you
watch
the lightning
dance
in my eyes.


III

This
is my
not-so-nice
drive off the road
daydream poem.
Let anyone read it,
I don't care
what they think, 'cause
with you on my mind
I'm way past the
brink of sanity.
Sitting in traffic and
think, think, think,
of your hands
sliding past buttons
plink, plink, plink,
and undoing things-
parts of me quiver
and parts of me sing
and you're well past
the point of
undoing me.
Then I sink, sink, sink,
to the part
with your lips on my neck
I'm shuddering now,
what the heck
if I'm wet. You
start to mount, one leg is in
one is out of
my pants and I
give a spontaneous shout
my body is taut and
I'm ready to pop
when I notice
that traffic
has come to a stop.