Daughter, lover, mother
with all the ribbons undone
familiar terrain I collect and savor.
Red wine in bed.
You watch me, you have me...
I have written a thousand pages
speaking your name. Head back, now swallow.
Beneath the wings of your eyes
hands cool along my jaw, apple split open.
There is no emotional anarchy between us.
Red wine in bed
familiar terrain...somehow
books won't love us back unlike this poem
in my head. I taste eternity in just one
of your kisses. Your fruit beckons me.
I become a delighted disaster.
D. Claudia Ash
March 2005