Sand and Moisture

How it is I am with
Aphrodite's older child!
Lying here,
Feeling your warmth,
Touching what's moisture,
Seeing your mind through your eyes:
Here and Now
With my mind of sand.

Yes, alone I was,
Lying here, waiting:
I was to come.
Being deliberate, the covers off
And on display - no sweat! Liar.
I was, I am, I am to come:
This beached whale had
To prove something but
If not to you, then surely to me.

You went
Into the bathroom;
You were
Unsure, ambiguous, in a tangle:
And then -
You stood
In the doorway
Like a curved air shadow
Inside a straight rectangle.
You asked,
"What am I to do?"
Feel me, touch me,
(The Wakening Beast)
Coming closer and I was surprised
As you slapped my hand between your thighs.

Washing yourself? I chose to enquire.
Don't be so stupid, was your denial.
Your eyes, see,
They were the same.
I was, I am, I am to come.

Put on some music, then,
Abigail,
If it helps.
Do It.
You did,
Altamont,
As you proved something to me:
Loud, Loud, Loud,
Came you to Infinity.
And the Seven Trumpets played
And proved something to me, at least,
At last, finally.

So how the lamb lies with the lion;
Hic and Nunc.
And something had happened at last
To end my long time
Like the desert fathers.

 

Adrian Worsfold (November 2013)

Pluralist - Liberal and Thoughtful