Fire Love

Love: Terrifying and alluring.

If it was a sure thing, there would be no allure.

If it was caught in a net like a dying butterfly, it would be buried and forgotten. It needs to fight like a hornet, struggling to find a way out, unsure of whether or not it should use that painful stinger.

It is a dance where he is pulled into my space and I push him out of it. We switch places.

It's when sometimes we join, and sometimes we go our separate ways.

Always he is on my mind and I can't shut it off like a mere lightswitch.

It is a dazzling dangerous fire that has crept beyond the fireplace and is creeping across the floor, intent on destroying everything.

Without those flames, the cold would creep in and under the sheets.

I'd rather it threaten to burn the house down than go out and leave only darkness in its wake. Just another writer writing, trying to keep the cold away.

Prom #3

A curtain of turquoise and deep blue falling
from the doorway, aired up fish floating the papery-
-ocean depths; a balloon arch of the same colors,rising
over a mouth-piece-less microphone: hanging on curtains
behind the mike, a collage of fish and sea-like creatures
drawn and colored in; on either side safety pins hold up
computerized images of birthday men and women their faces
those of the fish, or inside the fishes' mouths.

Giant mural made of boxes of cardboard glued together,
the bodies of Ariel, Flounder and Sebastian painted
faces cut out, mural leaned back against the piano for support:
a grinning face, little hair, from the face of the fish, a curious
mermaid looking up for him.

The dresses were poofy black with sequin-shiny top
fanned shoulders; and a short red dress pointing down
at the crotch like a heart, puttered sleeves and big bow on back
crimped hair and bare legs, golden shoes and hoops and Shawna;
or long blue gown, big-back-tattoo, who does splits
and twists, known only as "blue dress girl" (Prom queen show-off);
or tight-shoulders, tight-ass, tight-hips, tight-thighs shine bright
dull gold Becca, excellent dancer, didn't win; or dances-with-blow-up-shark
hay-colored hair, big red dress Kim, back it UP and keep the drink COMING.

There was also black dress, layered-hair (with side-bow) knee-high stockings,
tennis shoes girl Stephanie. There were tight, falling-
-out yellow dresses, and poofy-skirt, pretty curls (small) Cinderella-type dress
(Karra); and goldy-locks (glamorous!) black dress pearls, pink-slack's girlfriend.
Among the boys there was pink slacks, grey vest, pink shirt and tie; then there was good dancer, frilly shirt, red-and-gold vest, short hair & glasses, looks like he should be smoking a pipe (Mick-D?); and open jacket, tussled tie, moosed-up
hair, sunglasses, stomping-the-floor "he's in character" Greg McWilliams;

There was, of course, red-head Smile, pink cheeks and open-coat-by-end-of-night
grabbing me for last slow dance (Beatles), lights on, people cleaning up,
angry-about-the-judging, James. He was talk-to-everyone introduce, introduce, forget forget forget; flask in his pocket.

Sober-Girl-in-purple-and-gold-medieval-dress dancing/making-out-with/straddling/hugging/laughing with Legendary Jim/James.

Magick We Yearn: Revisited

His warm, light basement is home to energy;
a place for all kinds of magick.
Magick for love and lust,
of sensitivity and pain to take place.
With cords, rope, and the perspiring nakedness
of our flesh, together we make magick.
We tie knots, weave gentle sigils on bellies and goosebumped
chests; we heave love
like boxes and like delicate vases;
together we burrow: digging into holes with sharp,
solid shovels, and at other times with caressing fingertips,
flicking tongues, and soft
thrusts with the spade.
Always, cool lips meet and we suffocate
from bruising pressure.
We chant spells with our sighs and moans of
numbing pleasure–but our spells are never old.
Together we dance and perform ritual–for magick we yearn.

Love: Brief description

l
l
l
The stillness outside is dark
You invade my thoughtlessness.

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Fear is a broken
waterfall crashing on stones that jut
Shattering louder with every fall.