Ovi -
we cover every issue
newsletterNewsletter
subscribeSubscribe
contactContact
searchSearch
Apopseis magazine  
Ovi Bookshop - Free Ebook
Join Ovi in Facebook
Ovi Language
Ovi on Facebook
Stop violence against women
Tony Zuvela - Cartoons, Illustrations
International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement
 
BBC News :   - 
iBite :   - 
GermanGreekEnglishSpanishFinnishFrenchItalianPortugueseSwedish
Love of my life Love of my life
by Dr. Lawrence Nannery
2016-06-03 08:33:06
Print - Comment - Send to a Friend - More from this Author
DeliciousRedditFacebookDigg! StumbleUpon

If the fights were only playfights
Then what was the lovemaking?
Our hearts just below our breastbones,
We were yes particular friends, puffing our plumage,
And here is our true story, with the texture of cotton candy.

love01_400_01You: Secretarius Simplex Secaucusus.
A hardheaded, small breasted species.
Your tears of running laughter pricked up my ears,
Your rasping gasps rippling through the middle of the night,
Waking me kneeling behind you,
Pulling on your elbows like wings,
Feeling you shuddering as you come,
Seeing your face in the half light, half turned round to see me,
Hearing you call my name with your whole throat ―
Your tenebrous voice, your sweet need of me.

You’d rub your face in my hairy chest,
And beat it for the drum effect.
You’d hold my throat to feel my laugh.
I’d bury my face in your golden abdomen,
Smooth as any schoolgirl’s, and blubber nonsense,
Saxophone sounds coming up from your groin.

You taught me fantastic practices, without shame:
The unions of predatory birds, how they mate,
Soaring, on the fly, describing geometric figures.
Then we had to do it, hard work for a human like me
But for you so natural.  Your element the sky above.

I don’t know what I taught you,
But my jealousy beatified you.
You refused to get pregnant, even from my dreams.
You wouldn’t allow me “our song.”
I could hold you up to the light to look inside at your yolk,
But I was not allowed to have that yolk.
But that was what I really needed.

Panting in smiles, we two concurrent dogs ran over open country,
Crashing our equal breasts, crossing our equal necks.
We tackled and rolled, and tackled again, with no reason why.
We weren’t supposed to get to anywhere;
It was just for the laughter.

There are privileges in metaphors:
I see us as young ravens, vocal to the skies
On a dead tree trunk in grey Alaska, near no other living thing,
Jumping up in to a strong and buoyant wind,
Half unfurling our wings, then falling down on one another.
Holding in the air for long moments, just for the joy,
Lost in ourselves, sufficient completely,
Laughing passion, glad to be here, glad to be.


II

Perhaps we were but two trees in simultaneous fall,
That had landed on one another in accidental,
Exhausted, equilateral harmony,
Holding each other up in surprise.

Love, you were my little own worn keyhole,
So perfectly smooth and worn for me
That I could find you in the dark or anywhere.
It was always hard to believe that I’d ever been away.

I loved you so well that I loved your faults even more than your virtues.


III

Decay came on mysterious winds from no quarter.
We became less and less a declarative story and more and more a question.
With progressive parturition it became harder and harder to turn the key.
Slowly you began to stand back, skeptical.
You expelled me from the cockles of your heart.
I offered you my neck, wolf-wise,
But you refused the little tragedy, and violence, and bitterness.

All your beauty resided in your desire.
Our sexual destiny ― I thought ― was in our genes, or in our stars,
Or in the water we drank, or maybe candy bars …
Maybe I was making all this stuff up.

Your smile had preserved me, but now you were pitiless,
You would not join me in my metallic cripplehood, old pots clanging.
Though I wanted to curse you I never could.
An indomitable stinking old camel, I insisted on running a lost race.
I wanted to carry on feelingly about abandoned buildings, unused land,
Unpainted barn doors creaking in the unforgiving wind.

You refused these my pictures and stories.  Wisely you denied everything.
Fugitive was this love, which lives on only in my wide-angle mind,
Sovereign forever.


    
Print - Comment - Send to a Friend - More from this Author

Comments(2)
Get it off your chest
Name:
Comment:
 (comments policy)

Leah Sellers2013-03-19 23:35:29
Sir, yours is a Seasoned and Wonderful Spirit and Talent.
Thank you for this Shared Gifting and Song of Life.


Alan2013-03-20 00:53:43
Fantastic love poem


© Copyright CHAMELEON PROJECT Tmi 2005-2008  -  Sitemap  -  Add to favourites  -  Link to Ovi
Privacy Policy  -  Contact  -  RSS Feeds  -  Search  -  Submissions  -  Subscribe  -  About Ovi