LICKING WINTER
could berry juice
coax your hard mouth
to fall in love?
could sweet saffron light
relax your harsh nature?
could windsong cut
between the thick vines
of your wild sanctuary?
listen to the rustle
it’s as if all the things
moist and sacred
are flowering in stone
~ Borsenik
one
drop
it
wet
the
tip
of my
tongue
my
lips
my
teeth
a taste
a touch
rain or
dripping
snow
rain
or
dripping
snow
cold &
sweet
~ Bellinger
Young and Forever
For as much of eternity as the darkness holds,
I *crave*
the fold of our luxury,
the permanent transience that cannot be told,
felt in our
mutually-heated
proximity.
Re-ju-ven-ated,
we ARE young
and forever
old, in a country that despises
its own inevitable…
Clutch our ageless aging to the bone, consoul
ourselves in a fabulous tongue
joined, completed, and re-
begun.
Forgive me love for I have sinned
and will perform eternal
penance to your touch:
so, much, darkness, external,
and light within this
home both autumn- and vernal,
the glorious space of this living
room.
~ Terry Provost