~ To Kerry
Dawn sun hasn’t yet risen
Arms stretched fawn like
This spring night
On my belly naked
A foot resting by a leg.
Your body partially clothed
And it bruises easily
So carefully I attempt contact,
Knowingly, like ancient behooving elephants
In matriarchal sisterhood.
You pull me yonder woman
Though slowly I must move this time. Yes,
I want to dive and swim and gaily flap under the eddies,
But air is necessary for breathing
Or I shall never again rise
Wet dripping like I do
Liquid brown eyes to you.
I could Live Forever In your watery depths,
But without sun and light, I would be stripped down
To ivory bone and salted bitter-tasting flesh. We must
Have separate seas, you and me.
I’ve never been here before, not like this.
It’s the company I’m keeping
I am mountain and you the soil
Spread out over my granite,
You river and I the embankment soaking you into my sand,
I the journey You ride me,
We are both wild rivers
As the full moon rises.
We both hear, when we are together, rumbling sounds
Like the plains quaking wide
Screeching hawks, falcons, free-falling from cliffs
Over moist vaginal valleys
Mingled with gathering crows
And full forests. Your
Heartbeat creating all this life.
And I know I have come
To the marriage of body and spirit.
Later with dawn
My arms around you holding,
If you hadn’t told me you seldom do this
I wouldn’t have guessed,
So soundly, sleeping, as I stroke you gently
And fiercely try
To love away some small portion of your past.
We are making of our loving a ritual,
I never expected this with you,
Possibility, awakened, quietly,
Foreseen only in dream
And unrelenting vision of what is possible.
All around us, a war,
Because it wasn’t me
It was you raped, and I
Lament There is no place safe For long In this world.
When we are together my love
All of this fades and
We need this sort of living too
It’s more than a want, it’s a right.
I long for you
Like I do for freedom
And I want to make it
Never again a sacrifice
With its endless expanse of land and sky.
© Susan Lynn Gesmer, We Must Make Of Our Lives A Work Of Art, Revolving, 1988/2014