September 25, 2009

If I were a lesbian

If I were a lesbian,
If I were a LESBIAN,
I would date Salma Hayak,
(if she’d have me),
because that woman has got it goin’ on,
Or maybe a Janis Joplin,
and she could sing me a melancholy song,
and we would roll a joint together, and wear colorful scarves,
speak freely and get tattoos of magic mushrooms,
If I were a lesbian,
I would date all kinds of women,
but I think I’d prefer a creative type,
like Dickinson or Angelou,
we would write sonnets and create rhyme schemes
unheard ‘til our love bloomed,
Maybe I would go for brains and genius,
Madame Curie or Pearl S. Buck,
with a hiked up skirt and a whole lotta luck,
I could convince the likes of Catherine Zeta,
or Jessica Alba to get with this,
I’d have them drooling over my quick wit
and soft, pink lips.
If I were a lesbian I wouldn’t want that Pitt fellow
and I wouldn’t need Clooney, helloooo,
I would be so pleasantly pleased with my sexuality,
I would probably be approximately.....8 times more promiscuous,
because sex would be safer and significantly less conspicuous,
because really? Where can you NOT have lesbian sex?
All you need is a blanket to camouflage those flexible fingers!
And honestly, I would never not linger in lingerie stores,
because I swear those signs are basically soft porn,
And, out? I would be soooo out.
I would be the most out.
Not because I’m stronger,
But because I’ve seen what being “in” does
to a woman,
and “in” is enforced by intelligent, intellectual,
integrated individuals,
and it is insane that anyone should feel afraid
to be who they are in this day and age,
And this is for all the hot shot,
not shit,
small dick,
threesome wishin’,
insecure mother fuckers
who say,
-yeah, I’m cool with some chicks gettin’ down,
but two men, that’s just plain wrong-
This is for every spunky sorority sister
who makes out with her best friend at frat parties,
and come Monday says,
-oh ya know, I’m not bi or anything,
it must have been the bacardi-
baby, if all you want is the attention,
then makeout to your heart’s content,
but if you wake up next to your boyfriend come morning
and wish you had a smooth-skinned, soft-lipped woman
instead, then girl, stop foolin’ yourself,
I don’t blame you,
I blame us, the multitude,
for making the closet so comfortable.
So if I were a lesbian,
I would tell young girls to follow their hearts,
and shut their bibles,
to love courageously,
live unashamedly,
to hold their girlfriend’s hand,
to kiss her in the stands at a football game,
yeah, if I were a lesbian,
I guess I’d do things just about the same,
with the one minor difference.

September 12, 2009

I'll be

If you’ll let me,
I will be yours.

I’ll be your yes
and your no,
your fast and your slow,
the beat in your breast,
the tattoo on your chest.

I’ll be the the pink
on your cheek,
and the dream in your sleep,
I’ll fill all of your spaces
with lovely temptations,
and color your eyes
with star-purple skies.

And the warmth of your coffee?
That will be me.
And the flowers in spring?
Those too I’ll bring,
and the wet on your neck,
and the sun in your step,
I’ll be those too,
I’ll be them all
for you.

September 09, 2009

Suspense

I want to be warm with you.
Wrapped up,
skin on skin.
Let your heat make my heat,
no sleep,
absolutely
no sleep.
Sugar sweet softness
your hair through my fingers,
linger there, my dear,
yes
there.
Brush across my neck,
I can
barely
stand
the suspense.

September 02, 2009

if i've loved you a day

if i have loved you a day,
i have loved you a thousand days

if i have known your smile,
i have known every
sweet yellow ray
that ever has shone

if i have lived in your words,
and been spoken so gently,
no new sounds will ever suffice

if i have seen a star, or a sun,
or a moon beaming brightly,
so i have witnessed your keen reflection
and admired your light-filled presence

if i have loved you a day,
if i have loved you
a single second,
then full is my cup
and envious are the worlds
which exist without you.

no you in my morning

grey are my mornings
with no you to wake by my side,
dew has refused to settle on
green leaves outside my window,
pity takes refuge in my dresser drawers
next to silk lingerie
and woolen winter socks

with you went the sparkle on my ceiling
and the shocks on my doorknob,
no sugar can sweeten the black coffee
brewing in my dreary kitchen,
from my shower’s head flow rays of
luke-warm fluid,
no heat to waken me
with no you in my morning

house at home

The men they all tell me,
there’s something I’ve got,
something that makes them
forget what they’ve not,
what not to say,
who not to play,
where not to go,
whose house is home

They all think they’re happy,
green shutters and puppies,
filling SUV gas tanks
like prize-winning yuppies,
but then they meet me,
and rethink what they’ve thought,
think why,
think how,
think no,
no way this house is home

They want me to teach them,
I say it’s too late,
they’ve run straight head into
that thing we call fate,
fated ring,
fated breast,
fated poem,
fated place
you call home

She is every woman

She is every woman.
She slaps beauty in the face.
She is why men hunger for female skin,
She is why lovers hold each other
at night
and why they love each other
in the morning.
She is further than the east
and Her norths and souths stretch miles
beyond border lines,
Her voice slows frenzied cities,
Her hands cradle every baby sweetly
and brush hair out of frightened eyes,
She
is my Mother,
and my Sister,
and my Grandmother,
and all Her feminine grace
is outlined with scarred knees
and weathered crow’s feet,
because She has never taken
the trodden path,
never just
existed.
She keeps secrets
because She promised,
and Her promise is purposeful,
like Her,
and like every woman who breathed
before Her.

Come close

Why so far away, darling?
Come close,
stay closer.
Your skin belongs on mine,
our legs tangled in purple sheets.
Breathe.
Do not whisper,
Please.
Do not whisper,
I want to hear you,
I want to feel every brush
of your finger’s tips,
every moist drop from your lips.
Come to me,
I will steal you
from this place.