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Wake within expansion





I.

First Sight is a resonant harvest.
She cleanses upon waking wide open within a pastoral meditation.
Her bed of field is the nearness of a Lover, sleeping,
and spans such breadth unacquainted with time.
His crop is flesh and familiar,
gathering in bundles under her quiet, basket arms.

She can feel season’s sweat swelling shyly from loamy dimple,
articulated nipple ripe from morning crisp.
What is taken from his body shall be sown in hers;
neck stretches out for a taste.

And slow-erupting welcome,
his vast Nonexistence
offers up lush bushels like proposed conversation
toward her gaping, plucking palms.

II.

Far above them passes
the slowest wind-blown bird.






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Comments


  • runewalker
    August 12, 2008

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    You do love agrarian images and botany.

    this is a breathing gesture of loveliness. Soft and tender yet impassioned.

    vivid and sensual:
    "What is taken from his body shall be sown in hers;
    neck stretches out for a taste.

    And slow-erupting welcome,
    his vast Nonexistence
    offers up lush bushels"

    vast non-existance absorbs us all, even though we rail and protest, grimaced and sardonic assertions of being.

    Thank you.

  • tara wilson gold member
    August 4, 2008
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    "His crop is flesh and familiar,
    gathering in bundles under her quiet, basket arms."

    this is gorgeous...what a beautiful poem. I love the contrast in length from the first vignette to the second...it's perfect, I love how the metaphor here is carried through, but it's a totally different image, from ground to sky,..

    as always, it's such a pleasure to read your poems..


  • Night Hope gold member
    August 3, 2008

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    "First Sight is a resonant harvest."

    ~ * ~

    "His crop is flesh and familiar,
    gathering in bundles under her quiet, basket arms."

    Jen, these must be three of the finest, most tender & evocative lines in literary history, I think. Gorgeous work, my Friend. Wanda

    P.S. "First Sight is a resonant harvest." Sighhh...This line & your instinctive numbering of the stanzas was fiercely evocative of the indominitable spirit within Edna St. Vincent Millay's work. Brava.


    • rendezvous
      August 5, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      Thank you, Wanda, for the pleasant commentry & the reference. She's lovely - especially enjoyed the cataclysmic beauty of "Renascence."

      jen