after your gold rush

red candlelight

midnight Indian moon

black onyx hair streaming,

dancer somberly hovers

illusive,

forlorn,

vulnerable…

eyes dodging her ancestral heart

fighting back history’s oppressive tears,

years serving

without being served,

endless dedicated hours

nighttimes teeming overwhelmed solitude

now cloudless dawn

half open window

pristine doves coo

chill air softens the hush of breeze

nearby, a poet abounding with words

struggles on,

inside breath swells his body:

“…I have seen my love…”

inside, that singular morning light

magnifies her dance

supreme,

infinite,

lucid,

effortlessly sincere,

alluring…

“…I have tasted my love…”

as if a lost dream realized

emerald sari drapes across her poised shoulders

veiled hair now wild

casting a wended road

beckoning her lover to her heart…

“and she moved to me

drapes of green gold silk lowered,

then discarded,

as my impatient marrow

drank deeply from my lover’s rite”

yes, her spirit disclosed clarity

dark eyes powerful, vibrant,

music pulsating throughout her body,

hips drawing strings from her spirit

her poet speaking plainly,

directly,

Scribes and Goddesses witnessing:

“perhaps once through our intoxication

you appeared,

flamenco dancer,

dazzling black Andalusian gown

firm at the waist,

ornate magenta lace shawl

waving,

multicolored bracelets tinkling,

astonishing,

sheltering more of your hidden charms…

candlelight lady,

I have tasted your torment

visited your dreams

explored your heart

and drank from all of you,

gratefully,

but I have no words

to offer

to break those chains…

from where they came

so must they leave”

then the first light dawned

erasing all spoken visions of each other,

as that space between had waned

once more,

shrinking jasmine and primrose

thirsting for another time,

once more,

struggling to endure,

aspiring to survive

and dance nocturnal

as lovers must-

as lovers must dream-

as we lovers must!

July, 2016