It is rumored that there are 50 words In the Eskimo language for snow I ponder Why are there not 50 words in the English language That I could draw upon To describe that moment When your bare skin Touches my bare skin? Many call me a writer, a poet And yet words utterly fail … Continue reading Skin
bare skin glides against my rough edges like warm sand you buff my contours smooth mouth tracing the trail of my vertebrae you become cartographer of my ridges and valleys before breathing electricity along my spine bold fingertips find the places I ache work me like clay patiently loosen the knots I have tied myself into until … Continue reading Saturday Afternoon Poetry
his broken halo still gleamed dull gold his haunted eyes a kaleidoscope of all that he had seen I could taste the loss in his tears the weariness written on his skin like ancient runes but there was hope in his kiss that made me wonder if I could be his salvation at least for … Continue reading Broken Angel
cold small half pain half numb compressed in on myself until I am hard light cocooned in the strait jacket I spun will you enfold me in strong arms? draw me up into your body’s warmth? remind me how to breathe? guide my muscles my bones back into the shape of a woman? © 2017 … Continue reading When I am Small – Christine E. Ray
darkness has settled in for the evening the cold outside our four snug walls frosts our windows turns snow into a hard, white crust that reflects our soft bedroom light the day has been long, my love I have been doing battle with the world today I have been doing battle with myself my body … Continue reading When Darkness Falls – Christine E. Ray
Brave & Reckless 