Some character on a stage once said
She’d cut her lover out into little stars
To grace the face of heaven.
But no, I’d not cut you out in little stars
As someone writ of fictional lovers.
Though, yes, you would indeed refine
The face of any heaven.
Perhaps, I’d make of you
To shield me from the sun.
Yes, that would capture the softness
Of your skin.
The safety and protection
Wrapped up within you.
No, I think I’d rather make of you
a carving of wood,
Capturing the lines of you,
Smooth, curving to the touch.
The warmth of you glowing in the oiled grain.
Or perhaps, I’d make of you
A field of flowers,
Rich in hunger causing aromas and petal softness.
The balm of Gilead for a stricken soul.
No, no. I know I’d make of you
So, you’d nourish
While I tended you
And so always
Return to me
In the velvet
Of the soil.
I am a retired teacher, enjoying said retirement. I have been active in the gay and lesbian community since I threw away my Ken doll at the age of four.
You can read more of my writing at Hearing The Mermaids Sing