orpheus and eurydice.

the first time i fell in love
(with you) i was waking,
peeling my skin from yours.

your eyes were half-open,
deep blue, but you were asleep
sun light coming

in on petal-soft feet through
the venetian blinds.
you were no orpheus,

to make the trees bend down
and whisper my name,
to climb the long stair,

to hang my name in the stars with your lyre.
i followed you all the same.
you looked back (once).

there were no clouds that day.

winter loving.

you held me once, a great while ago,
in the cold light of the rain outside your window.
the trees grew thick and young about your house

but their thin branches could not stand under
the weight of the snow that fell that winter.

that was the winter you twisted your fingers in my hair and kissed me.
you used to sing then, sing that song to me, that hallelujah.

our love wasn't all-consuming, but it was.

the shape of you was simplelikesleep and
sometimes like the closing of eyes.

once i think you asked me if death was the true tyranny of humanity

(i think) i shook my head.

but i was lost in you by then and
blinded by the snow climbing along your windowsill.
i couldn't see past the shadow of you.
and you couldn't remember anything but the curve of my legs against yours.

the sad times.

the small warm noise of rain that starts in the dawn,
the rain that taps on the window by your bed.

turning over in the cool morning,
the softness of skin and the calm down blankets.
the cosmic center, slip a hand down between the sheets, who knew?

my whisper in your ears; i could never say no.
soft blue glow that illuminates the faces
that haunt every corner and

the street lights never get brighter,
the harsh white light only reachers so far.
the brown grass that sweeps down to my window rises in the rain,

throwing itself up towards the sky,
as if it could pluck the stars out from between the clouds.
last night was another turn in the darkness, another tumble and fall

and the moon never shone so bright,
never came down to rest in the space
between the door and carpet worn with a thousand repetitions
like i dreamed.

heavy fluorescent kitchen lights and the sounds of people waking,
an intrusion upon sad small private lives;
i'm hunching under the shower head,

watching the drip of water on your bathroom mirror.
morning loving, listening to the dog howling next door,
whispering, lips too close to skin,

and reaching out to cup the day in soft bare hands.

eve in the garden.

love is the first and final mystery

the pillar of salt lot's doubting wife became

the last look back before orpheus lost eurydice

the immortal entombing of the pharaohs

achilleus, bright and shining.

god's true punishment for knowledge

was to drown in the sorrow of love.

the punishment of women.

the spines and squares and twists of green hills

and the love of a peace (home hearth protection)

i am i am

all the endings come to twist in infinity

where my cold white body turns dark and warm

i wish i had lived a thousand thousand years from now so i too could be a star traveler

where i am where i am

the cold air the cold calls of the wind

a knot inscribed huge on the ground

where i can walk it

i never knew when i first heard of the power of the woman-saint

the martyrdom and the final sin of eve

the final hurdle the last best hope the punishment of women

where i am where i am

i lost the end of sin

i am i am

where in the woman the snake

why am i not tempted

not thrown out of eden

when did i escape into the barren lands of the world

the singulism of my own small life

where is the terrible sword the shining light the knot the horse to carry me back

when will all the bells ring at once to show me the way?