There's nothing I want And nothing I don't want Sitting hips open On this old couch In the back of the house kitchen With the green of the day Peaking through the window Curtain slung to the right Like a woman's hair Over shoulder
Lots of things unfold huh? As you age into a woman Who knows she's a woman Who knows what this means
Again. I say to you there's nothing I want And nothing I don't want Right now
Transfixed -Like a beetle in amber- Amongst contentment And a cavernous filled well of desire
If you hold me Kiss my neck I might tip over these barrels of this water I'm carrying
letting it's oil pour down the side of our legs Like cool ink Paint my toes in its color
Stamp my feet in its wine
Cause why not tell the world Through the calligraphy of my toe?! Why not?
Another woman has tipped her scales And let loose The epson beetle from the amber It came alive just as brilliant as once
It was all aqua blue. And black shine. And cunning green. Smart. Sweet.
And it ran out its little legs all over the floor.
Look now at the calligraphy on the ground.
What do you make of this my love? The inky script. With the thousands of dot foot prints of the scarab
Fear not. The amber.
It holds all these pieces together. All this complication.
Cause what would the world be if all the women tipped
And all the ink ran.
And all the toes danced The beetles loose
If I laughed deep as well as light.
I think you'd still scoop me up on this couch. My love, I think you would.
But we can't let loose the buckets everyday What then would the world hope for? Lips parted anticipation What would we wish for in the in between breaths ? What would the cat's eye keep secret?
There's discipline even in all heavens loose Shut the front door Kind of magic
Rhythm even in this chaos Beneath my chest
You'd scoop me up though nevertheless
Amber running down my breasts. Desire cracked open. Empty jars.