Jean
The soft lamp
Warmed your sanctum
Cast glowing rich sheets
Curated rows of books
And the question in your eyes.
Twirled yourself into my
Unexpected arms
On some tangled dancefloor
Drunk on hope,
Why not.
The holla of eyes and smirks
A clucking flock of contemporaries
Spinning a broken culture around us
To push our bodies together
Our eyes not sure where to look.
If I could go back
We would do it differently
Softer, slower, if at all.
You can take the wheel
Feel, sensation, respect the foundation.
Shame crouches a tiger
In my jungled mind
A dappled fury stalking
My own complicity
Lurking menace hidden in trees.
For too long I have not looked
At those encounters
With the heart
Monkeying my abacus
Tick lists against the entropy
Diverted little streams
To swell the waters of my ego
Like an ornamental pond
Braver to stick my hands
Deep into the mud and come
Deeper my hand goes
Pushing my soul to fingertips
Up to my armpits in memories
I fish out the seed hidden
That will sprout a new masculine.
Joe Blogs 2020