A Taraxacum Dance

Dancing arms flung into the wind
twirling gracefully a lone dandelion seed.

White skirt fully extended, a single
long black leg pointed.

I am a dancing alone,
but I have a partner -
like that tiny puff on the wind
I dance with myself,
for myself.

Every turn is ecstacy,
the spinning sensation
drawn through me,
and I am caught
and carried on the wind.

My Lips are Sealed

I take out my needle and thread,
with careful hands I push the end
through the eye, drawing the length.

I silently sew my lips together,
needle piercing flesh, white thread
becomes red as it is pulled through.

I lock my secrets away, my voice,
I close out the world, nothing gains
entry, tightly stitching closed my mouth.

Making Music

Inspire me -
your intimate instrument
I was designed
to be played
by your hands.

Bound in temptation
I linger
anxiously awaiting
your next touch.

Fingers brush skin
a dancing rush
of sensations.

There are sounds -
expressions I make
that can only be coaxed out
by you.

No More Dresses

They called me Jimmy,
the boy with no hair,
the girl with no dreams,
but I was more than that.

Daddy loved me
but dismissed me,
we never were ones
to talk, just silence.

They never asked,
I never told, but the eyes,
all those eyes,
wondered aloud - Why?

I didn’t want to be
a girl with no dreams,
not allowed to dream
because I was a girl.

I wanted freedom
so I made a bargain
with the ancient gods,
and traded my hair.

They called me Jimmy,
I never missed being a girl,
but I could still see those eyes,
wondering aloud why why why.

United We Stand

I tripped over you one night,
lying on the floor, a single eye
opened, dragging in breaths.

I lay in the darkness beside you,
curious as to what I'd come by,
staring as if I could see you.

We existed on that hard cold floor,
for days on end, time stretching out
and slowing down, losing count.

Finally you spoke to me, and
the darkness wasn't just a place,
it was a voice, a feeling.

Your voice kept repeating, echoing
my thoughts, how we managed
to find each other in the vastness.

Then our fingers touched and sparked,
light began, and I saw you there,
as you had been, waiting for me.

Light grew until we stood
in our own sun, shining, bright
and with eyes that could not look away.

Thermal

The nursey fence cried icicles,
and our breath hung in the air
haunting us in exhaled heat.

We walked quicker for the nip
in the air that pinked our cheeks
and sought a way past our layers.

The sun rose but never showed,
concealed from sight -
the warmth of the day never was.

But the light was there in your face,
and the heat in glaces that past between us,
though we never touched a gloved hand to hand.

Life in Print

Two lines of five and you were but the last,
trees of pine stand non linear.

The trees are tall and graceful --
pretty even in their own way,
but they don't offer much in the way of comfort,
needles provide scarce shade,
so they will make paper from you.

The paper will be recycled,
printed upon again and again,
and how you see yourself will change,
maybe even one day it will show you the truth.