To Whom It May Concern

 

Not a word!

The eyes speak in rivers,

the fingers in trees.

The body has a language all its own:

this time we’ll send the interpreter home.

 

I will open you

petal by petal

taking all the time in the world.

I will build with you a slow fire

stick by stick

and watch the color of your sunrise.

I will play with the wind of you,

cover your body with smiles and games,

promises and fantasies that disappear

without a trace.

I will stir your secret core,

witches’ brew of potions and incantations

and feel you simmering, rolling

floating in my hand.

I will fill you slowly up,

every crevice and curve,

watch feel hear smell taste you

growing full.

 

And when every part of you is one,

when you are saturated, suspended,

water trembling over the brim,

I will ride with you over the falls

drown with you

disappear all boundaries

tumble over and over

and over and over

until there is only the spinning dizzy

dance beyond dancing

and the great wave crashing to bits

everything, leaving us

strewn with the seaweed

in the sand and the sun

to dry.