May I please?
the way a marble falls
a path...into placement
just sweet enough to sit still.
Savory in robust romanticism
Did I create this story?
The offering of your backside
begging for an embrace.
Inward in offering.
Familiar to what has been forgiven.
An alignment articulated into a sort of mastery
wading in sun and soft sand
looking beyond the horizon and back
to the place where there is union
a movement of wind and water
and Earthly collision
a breakdown so gentle
a build-up so absolute.
I promised not to write about desire
so onward to a compartment of cataclysmic collision
the kind that seeps through corners
and travels outward,
reminding me how to receive
reminding me of the enigmatic mastery
of time and travel
persuaded by the power of presence.
In pressurized complacency
and copious constriction.
Granting graciousness and full disclosure.
My offering is the rolling thunder
low and certain…
a promise of a downpour
and a washing away of clouded suspension.
A clarity upon inhale and a comfort upon release.