I and Calliope in Harmonious Rapture

A choir in the sky,
garden in the sea,
lark in my chest.
An island in our bed,

throbbing agony
caressed by your hand.
Moans and pain
born to your laughter,
raised in your tears.

Time and silence.
Clocks ticking.

March, 2009 issue of Word Catalyst

Throbbing Agony

I must have experienced
la petite mort after Calliope
caressed my secret spots --
enveloped in pleasure
as the grass is wrapped
in dewy green. I am a bard
riding a dragon, flying across time
and space. I can't tell you where --
It is as if I appeared where I am now.

March, 2009 issue of Word Catalyst