I Like Your Body



I love the way you fit in my body,
in the curve of my hip
in the small of my back,
inside the palm of my hand
and the roundness of my cheek.

I love how you fit next to me
and I next to you —
in the crook of your arm
and the hollow between your thighs.

Where the corners of your smile
lift at the sight of me,
these are the places I find myself —
and I adore that I fit so nicely into you.

If I could borrow poetic words
from e e cummings, I would tell you.
I like my body when it’s with your body
— because it’s true.

I like your body and my body
and the places where freckle
meets freckle like a sky full of stars.

I like the way your fingers
leave indentations in my hips,
the way your teeth carve moons in my flesh,
and the way your eyes burn into
my shoulders, my neck, my breasts.

I like the way your gaze cuts me open
like a knife sharpened on lust,
and the way your breath
fills the hollow of my throat.

I like your body, the weight of it over me,
the way it covers me, pushes me,
makes me crawl — both toward you
and away — up the wall.

I like what my body does,
in those moments
when I cannot figure out
whether I am in me, or in you,
or free to spread my wings —
to plunge into the blackest,
deepest parts of the sky,
where you once told me
the limits of your love for me might lie.

I like that my body is animal —
bristling predator and quivering prey —
that you can tie down, break open,
make hot and wet,
make tremble and convulse.

I like the way your mouth fits my mouth,
the way the taste of you —
all coffee and cigarettes,
warm wind and metal —
fills my mouth and washes
over my tongue.

I will swallow you down
like you are my very life,
sweeter than any honey
summer might offer.

I like the way your body moves
at the touch of my fingers,
cannot stay still
at the sound of my words.

I like the grimaces
that close your eyes,
and twist your smile
into an alphabet of pleasure.

I like the breathing-pulsing-pushing
of your hips and shoulders,
your back and it’s perfect arch,
your muscles rippling as you-inner wolf
fights to escape the flesh and sinews I adore.

I like your body inside my body —
outside my body, tangled up
and wrapped around my body.
I like the way you climb inside
and take control.

I like the way you surrender yourself
to my hungry jaws and darting tongue —
and my relentless fingers,
the way you acquiesce
to the madness in my curse words,
and my incoherent burbles of ecstasy.

I like the poetry
our bodies make together,
and the music
that drives our dance.

I love the places where I find you,
in my body — hours,
sometimes days later,
when you are hard at work,
bending and binding
fire and metal,
and I am sitting here
with pen and ink
staring at a blank page.

I like that you are here,
in the ache of my shoulder,
the bruise at my elbow,
the breath that echoes
just below my ear.

I find you constant
in the hunger that burns
deeper than my belly can
possibly be inside my body —
this body — that loves your body,
these fingers and lips,
these thighs and hips.

They adore you, crave you,
will always love you,
whether you are tangled
up with my body —
or simply on your way
back to me.




Siren Song



Your ears ring with amber warnings
as the western horizon pulses orange.
The eastern sky wears a shroud of haze.

Dancing widdershins ’round the house,
The wind chants incantations through cracks,
spills in smoky pools beneath the doors.

These walls and floors breathe in —
barrel-chested men with wet burlap
fists — breathe out, beating back flames.

You lean against the upstairs window
silhouetted by sunset scorching distant hills.
Copper flames reel and stagger in your eyes.

When you turn to me, they sear my skin.
All the heat in my body rises meeting yours —
and invites you, with ink-singed fingers:

Come lie with me, as our flesh burns.
Let smoke fill your lungs, clear your head
of the spinning vertigo that haunts your soul.






First Touch (a repost)



I’ve spent the past several days in the hospital with a partner. She is doing well, and we’re narrowing in on what the non-life threatening problem actually is. However, as a result, I will be re-posting a couple of previous poems this week. I hope you enjoy!

From February, 2015



The way your hand makes love to mine —
as though we’ve both been here before,
(perhaps a different life we wore?)
our palms just like the stars align!

Your touch is warm and your eyes shine!
Two dancers swaying on the floor:
the way your hand makes love to mine —
as though we’ve both been here before.

Our fingers and our souls entwine,
the way the sea kisses the shore.
Your gaze becomes an open door,
intoxicating as the wine —
the way your hand makes love to mine.



13 lines in 3 stanzas; rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) Usually 8 syllables per line.


A Map

map (2)


The pain you give makes my head spin,
takes my breath like a quick cold snap.
Who taught you to carve in my skin?
The marks meander like a map.
The way your eyes light when I bleed–
like you could tear my flesh apart.
Who knew you were so predatory?
It echoes deep within my heart.
I need to yield as your quarry–
I’ll give my will, your ache to feed.
Decima Italiana:  10 line poem, 8 syllables per line, ababcdedec rhyme pattern.




A hunger that claws
lives in the air between us.
No matter the distance
I will always need your flesh,
and your hunger taking mine.

We are tied by red rope
a twist of muscle and blood.
Though you leave me here,
I can always feel the tug
of your appetite for me.

The somonka is a Japanese form. In fact, it’s basically two tankas written as two love letters to each other (one tanka per love letter). This form usually demands two authors, but it is possible to have a poet take on two personas. Click here for a refresher on the tanka.



Anticipation (a shardorma poem)

wolf crouch hunting


Feel it there:
the tension of need —
hunger’s ache?
I see it
from across this heated room,
sense my hunter’s eyes.
Shardorma is a Spanish 6-line syllabic poem of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable lines respectively. – See more at: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poets/shadorma-a-highly-addictive-poetic-form-from-spain#sthash.bn2uFi5o.dpuf

Ink – a love poem


You are blood-ink that spills across my paper,
stains these trembling-too-much fingers,
bruises my swollen lips and tastes like
summer wind, in all those 4:00 a.m. trees.

You first came, book in hand, sipping coffee.
Stories dripped steadily from your chin.
I watched hungrily, as your mouth bled,
gulped the words, like a river bed long-dry.

You’ve been here, spilling stories–
for one-hundred-and-fifty-six days.
I’ll sit beside you fifteen thousand more,
my heart wide — a blackbird’s throat.

I can’t quench my thirst for your words.
They cry in my chest — a winged cacophony.
Ink rages in my veins, and I’ll bleed out fast
— a murmuration, whirling from my pen.



Just a Taste — After Halsey, Castle (a golden shovel poem)



I wonder if you understand it now 
the way you draw pain from my 
body like blood from a jugular. My neck 
–both pale and trembling– is 
yours to take, always open 
to your appetite, and the wide 
hungry hollow in you, begging 
to be filled. I will surrender, ache for 
any chance to feed your need.
wild and hungry wolf, you are the fist 
that holds me close, wraps itself around 
me and draws pain like blood, just to taste it.
golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.
For today’s prompt, write a “let the moment begin” poem.

It Was a Claws and Teeth Night — After Evanescence, Bring Me to Life (a golden shovel poem)

woman in black

The darkness returns, and if I die before I wake
it was all a vivid dream of you chasing me. 
I still see it when I close my eyes, looking up 
at moon and stars, earth at my back as you bid 
me fight — remind me of the strength that is my 
birthright. Bare your teeth and your need for blood! 
I feel my body thrum, alive — pungent with desire to
feed the wolf in you. I will hold my breath and run 
— knowing you’ll give blessed chase, just before 
I lose myself in this clotting darkness. When I
hear your growls echo in distant trees, I’ll come 
clawing this earth with my howling — I’ll be undone.


golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “It Was a (blank) and (blank) Night,” replace the blanks with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.


Ravenous — After Sarah McLachlan, Fear (a golden shovel poem)

It’s summer here in my little corner of the world, and I’m on vacation. I’m headed to an island, with my paints and my pens and my Bear! So over the next several days, I’ll be reposting favorites:


black wolf 3

The way your blue eyes pierce my flesh, they 
take my breath — whisper like winter. They say 
that I am mystery and gut-wrenching temptation.
I am amazed by this, and by your strength of will 
to unleash the beast inside you –  but not destroy.
Yes, you tear into my body and soul, and yes, our 
cries echo in the dark. All the forest hears our love.
I think you are magic — the incantation that bids the 
blood in my veins race, my body ache for you — never
fully sated. I’m fed and empty, this need not ending.
In your yearning eyes, I find my insatiable hunger.


golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.




For today’s prompt, it’s the final “Two for Tuesday” prompt:
  1. Write a love poem.
  2. Write an anti-love poem.