The Spark

The spark of your desire
cuts through me
like a diamond wheel
and hones the shape
of my tender heart
into one of joy.

I have grown used to
the way you carve me
out of incipient dreams
with the careful force of your body,
the way you split me
and smooth me over,
part me
and break me
again and again
until I cleave to you.

What will I be
when I am no longer
the raw material
of your need?

drifting through
the starry void.

The End of the Universe

I was lying with my lover on the couch,
wrapped up in his arms like a gift,
absorbing the balm of post coital pleasure
into my skin.

He told me that scientists have seen the end of our universe,
while I idly ran my fingers over the scratch of hair on his belly.
He said the sun expands in a burst so large that it absorbs three planets before extinguishing
and dying out.

I guess sometimes
even though you know
the end
is inevitable
you live and love
like you don’t.


The sinewed shape of your muscles
imprinted against my soft skin,
molding it finely
to the hard pattern of you.

I wanted only
to hold you in my arms,
as we treaded water together
through the dark current
of dreamtime,
for you to anchor me
against the undertow
of the Unconscious.

But the tides were strong.

I hit a snag
within that treacherous sea,
and crashed against the rocks,
emerging barnacled by lucid fate,
into the harsh wake
of wakefulness.

You left
because I was snoring.