In Love With Words  #124
December 16,  1998

I have become very frustrated
With my words
With the words
that I'm in love with
They do not always love me back
They are temperamental
like intellectual cats
They only like to be pet one way
but like a woman
can change their mind and often do
they prod me to
keep up
keep up
keep up
It resonates like the heartbeat of a newborn

These words
jumble around
like socks in a dryer
or the winning balls
of the lottery

But my mouth is too small
For their ascension
They are black on black puzzle pieces
which can't find
that complimenting spot
that fits the gracefulness
of hourglass
flowing of contour and shadows
where lines meet skin
or skin meets skin
Where I take their hand
and guide them
over my ready flesh
of softness and folds

I am too impatient
They need to be cultivated
like the green of grass
that slowly takes over dead earth
The slow bloom of tulips in my garden
I want
I want
I want

My heart beats faster now
They dance wild
when I hold them tight
between my thumb and finger
extinguishing breath
into flat sounds and shapes
watching them shrivel and dry
Carefully I lay them smooth on paper
and wonder
why they don't believe in me