The Blade

the blade of 'yes or no' cuts the life, and steals a friend, 
so I stumble down again, head in hands and butt ends,
broke by my own defeat, too deep to know why or tell,
I've tasted figs from the tree, which we now reach to fell


05.10.12

BOSCASTLE'S COAST

Howling wind and rain
Tearing my heart to threads
In exquisite tension rising from
My loins to my breast

Rain upon my lip and yours
Howling in my heart, you pressed
Against the watchman's doors
And all we could but do was wrest

A little touch here and there
Your jumper slipping up, as fingers
Pressed against your belly fair
Cold lightning bolt that lingers

The anorak pushed up by torrent air
Lay upon your mouth a bit
And wet from storm rare
Blocked half the succulent slit

That tongues could usually bridge
Soul to soul through saliva
Cavorting on the dusk ridge
That jutted on the bluff edge

The waves woke the world in me
As they did on sea
And I held on tightly for a while
This is where we're meant to be

A pagan world, black and true
The gift of life on coastlines
I'm wakened to the hands of you
That raise in me these lines

The anorak between our mouths
Is what I remember most
But we went on and kissed a while
Above Boscastle's coast

30.09.12