Surrendering

Tonight the moon slices
blood orange across a harvest sky
sinking beneath the horizon
like some lucky ship
and I am reminded of the wetness
deep and dark inside
the folds of my sweetest skin.

I find hope in this softness of night,
her velvet covers smoothing
out the rough hands of disappointment
and rage at these awake days.
This good mother of night
leaves me alone
to the sound of crickets
and tree frogs,
and to the forbidden thoughts that pass
unmistaken by the knowing belly
of the mind.

Stars like I’ve never seen before
populate the sky with the lightness of forever.

You could take me here
in the open fields
on the last days of summer.

I would surrender
everything to you. I would
give you my children, all of them,
and their bright, shining souls, for just one
lifetime of absolute rapture
found in the hems of this red dress.

It would all be worth it
to have you press your cool lips
to the edges of this human gown.

The Destination

In this year I have chosen
to be fully alive
where the moons turn
like pages of a book
toward the ending of my myth,
I want to put my ear
to the center of your chest,
kiss you exactly above your heart,
and set my ear back at that place,
listening like a woman
waiting to hop a midnight train,
feeling the vibrations
that will explain
how I could squander
the brown and black of your eyes
as if they were blue
or even emerald green.

When the snow comes,
and it won’t be very long—
we will build the city
in which I can love you
without the tall walls and heavy doors
of deception.
There is glass and light
as the train pulls into the station
and the conductor calls out our names,
punches our tickets
and proclaims
with a wink and whispers,
“The journey is the destination.”