She said, Sure, pretend you love me,
I’ll show you how to climb the mountain
and step into the space between.
Your sighs sink into me. Waking ,
I reach where you said you would be
once I became brujo to your bruja.
Partake of our long arousal
and together, attend
to the way I hear
lovers fare in your far world.
In your language, a sigh evolves.
Sleep where you said I could be
voodoo to your delicate doll.
Stones border the green earth grown
against blue sky where sand is floor
and our skin heavy with musk,
love we make in your mind and mine . . .
When I am absent, another comes.
He is said to give you what I could not.
If he asks too much, you hurry him
from that time to this.
Who knows what sighs mean?
How many caresses will you accept
in lieu of fury?
Into your pink my cream pours.
Smell the air, imagine our smell,
lick a body down to where legs begin . . .
nails, lips, hair, the body’s shore.
Your skin pours over my male fever,
in your female, fervent heat.
(16, 17, 21-23 April 2012)
copyright 2012 by Floyce Alexander