There are moments spent in wonder at the faces that intermingle in my previous lives of you. The colors swirl, hair an anchor in this image I carry around like an altar. The pillows whisper your thoughts to me, and a fortress of arms relinquishes my need for an army internal. Your lips are a couch, they gather in all the sadness, and let forth moments alone to envision strength returning. Your lips are  a distraction from any conversation I could muster.

There are moments spent in magic at the voices reading inner poetry to me, left behind by your grace, the way you saunter. The colors swirl, rainbows in your glances at me tumble into a whiteness pure, that blinds. The pillows tell me stories of ancient love stories we have inherited. Your lips are a harbour for wrecked ships to crawl to. Your lips are the ending of all my attempts at languages. Your lips are off limits, away from yearning, a smile to render me powerless, a weapon of choice in this hereafter.

A poem.

Bodies

Dubai, 12/11/09

Kissing you is

a

deep sea

dive.

How are they named? Those long drops with no equipment,

when all your armor is will

your weaponry is lungs

resilient, when you bank only on the hope that legs glide

way out to open water wind sun streaming

to oxygen needed

to life outside, persistent,

to inhaling, to exhaling, to dreaming.

Kissing you is

a deep sea dive, a

pulse, a throbbing

journey

a pilgrimage to quell needing

hips thrashing, protesting this space, not  immediate enough  to destination

ocean floor, salt of you to flavor

this heat in morsels

the beating waves slap against our teeth,

seeking

kissing you is dizzy heaving

is rampant is whirling is a dervish of intangible coded

letters that have lost all

meaning

kissing you is a deep sea dive

looking for bounty, looking for bones of ancestry, looking

for refuge for seclusion for purity

kissing you makes me a heathen

makes me speak in tongues

of foam

frothing over with desire, squeezing shut the dam

you bombed to splinters all the

wayward

feelings

kissing you is a deep sea dive, inflicted by a world

condensing to become a fragment as small

as this wet sound we make

lips mesh

healing.

Kissing you is a deep sea dive,

and what do they call them? The heavy falls built solely on hope,

the hope enables flying towards the light before

bodies disintegrate,

reeling,

the body, kissing you, reveals all its secrets.

There is no hope here.

Kissing you is a deep sea dive, and I am a woman deluged,

a woman capsized, wanting

nothing but to offer you a treasure trunk, a trove of

myself,

a woman  intent on the sole miracle

of breathing.

There is no hope here.

Rust devours these limbs,

metal sinks into sand,

and kissing you is a deep sea dive I am unprepared for,

a hunt I have no chance of succeeding.

I am a shipwreck of myself,

decaying,

disappearing.