Fable

You sneak out of aqua shells &
I think I see you smile at me...
I might have blinked.
I might have dreamed...
This isn't your mundane belly dance,
This isn't about a snake charm;
This is about falling, like raindrops,
Into a whirlwind,
Into the thunders of love.
I am metaphor, always, plucking
My harp or swaying my arms to the
Songs of spinning sirens.
Fortune resents the gales of this:
How possession never has justification!
& along that hue,
Never speaks w/ a rift or vocation...
I am metaphor!
Even if I summoned you w/
The coiling of my waist & hips,
The slow relaxing of my fingertips,
The conscious bowing of my bones
Onto these cool tiles
Where I sweat in handling just
The instrument of imagination,
Would it still be a fable?

Telepathy

Is it the fault of a cloud,
The way I utter words that are asleep?
These candles are only kindled
Under clear skies
That surface in moments
Where even when I scream
Crystal pyramids of deep-pink poetry,
You're never close enough to
Suffer the stain.
I want to smear this language;
Like a wet painting thrown out into
The rain...
Then what we'd have
Would be the clarity of genesis:
The easiness of character,
The reach of your lily white fingertips
To my jellybean smile.
I'd open the curtains,
& feature the irony:
Nonaligned, this melting eclipse.
I'd swim at you w/ kisses
Because
There'd be no need for a spelling bee.