love moves slow, laggard grains drop
witless, ignorant of Gravity’s supple
grasp, through Time’s flaccid hourglass.
she has crept into me unaware. she permeated
the loose places of my soul and found
refuge in the deserts within me. an oasis,
thriving. where water sent death to
seeds planted deep in the soil of my
marrow. seeds planted by hands unseen.
and ah Christ how she bloomed there. a wisp
of subtle attar births small Storms along the
nape of her neck. buried in that shroud of
sun – feeding the green of the Man, within
the man. dirt and soul and marrow and bouquets
seep into the same holes beneath them. lost.
the ocean moves slow. she steadily carves out
the rotten places. leaving just holes. leaving
only holes. you will rise and behold what is
magnificent. for seed died to sprout;
sprout died to stem, stem died to leaf,
and leaf died to flower.
where it all ends between the warm folds of such silky petals.
the sun on your bare back.
love moves slowly, almost as slowly as