Saturday, January 06, 2007


There are gaps
between our fingers
where we hold, not each other
but a lover
we are both faithful to.

This other beloved
looks like our passions
melted over snow.

Rose wine
has been spilt
and it has mingled
with tears
and the breathless gasps
of intimacy.

Our bodies
dream each other
and that dream weaving
has fashioned
a new form to illustrate love.

A persona
that could not
have been created
if we had been only content
with the dance of One.