Layers of Light

Instead of darkness,
when she closes her eyes,
another layer
of light chases sleep away,                            out of reach.

Behind those closed doors
her feverish mind remembers days –
nights –
with whispers in a lover’s tongue
only they understood.
Secret words
in a different language.

An intake of breath redirects,
leads her away
from this attack, unites
energy – protects them both – settles
around her with a smile. Sleep’s illusion
blankets; she remains
– quiet –
seeks a calm she longs for
yet does not feel.




Eyes Wide Open
Cool palms cup heated flesh, desire’s warmth
spiraling down her body. Familiar
tug of want pulls her hands to forbidden
pleasure – releases needs pent-up inside
for too long. She does not close her eyes now.
Once hidden, shuttered under lashes, she
allowed imagination to control
her visions, paint her partner’s picture.
She’s no longer afraid of memories,
wants to see her lover’s face, hear his voice.
It is no secret she craves life’s passions;
revels in the sensation – nakedness,
body pressed to body, becoming one;
eyes wide open, she is fascinated.

Memories of Laughter


Reflections in the mirror mimic her,

taunts her with images of what she feels

rather than how she appears. Heavy thighs

and too-small breasts, a waist un-enticing

to the caress; she does not see – today –

the beauty, the curve of hip leading down

toward long legs and a slender turn of calf.


No, her breasts are not the firmness of youth;

rather they are the splendor of woman,

kissed with motherhood and a lover’s touch.

When she sees lines creasing around her eyes

her memories of laughter shared blossom

in soft smiles that transform her; release her

beauty into her own field of vision.



© Siobhan



The Beginning of the Rainbow


After the rainbows tonight, I return

in anticipation – find myself wanting

thunder, lightning strike, the power-filled moments

… electricity … I feel

most alive.  

Ordinary life pales in comparison,

I cannot return there

without the promise of another

rainbow and another.  


My eyes

and perhaps yours as well? –

were meant for such glories.  


Color in,

with no regard for the lines,

this picture of what life truly is;

not black and white,

just shades of grey, thin-lined between the reds, blues, and yellows…

the place we find ourselves

when we least expect it.

Not at the end nor

the beginning of the rainbow.


© Siobhan


Getting into Character


Standing, calm and poised, on my own two feet

has become a trick I perform daily.

Known as strong and capable in the past,

I’m cornered into that role even now,

when I least feel like it. So I practice

in front of the mirror, newly hung on

the bathroom wall, so I can see what you

and others see watching my performance. 


Past the angled sharpness of collar bones

and slimed-down hips, I try to concentrate

on facial expression – composed, not-quite-

carefree yet pleasant.  I smile, soften

my eyes and relax my shoulders, release

the tension, and get into character.



© Siobhan


I am Living

Soft whispers of a French song drift across
the room, filling every space with sorrow.
I want to dance, your arms wrapped around me;
hold me close against your chest, our bodies
barely moving in time to the rhythm.
Eyes closed, I can imagine the heart beats –
yours and mine, near silent to everyone
yet loud as trumpets to the two of us.
The music shifts, shuffling between songs.
Random musicians feel my mood somehow.

They remind me I need a few changes;
as they play, I know I can’t bring myself
to remove the pieces of memory
lodged inside the lyrics. They are part me –
part you and blended into who we were.
I can’t – don’t want to – relinquish that yet.
As we dance in my imagination,
I wonder who I am punishing
and realize – no one. I am living
and accepting and mourning and being.


Alabaster and Vermilion

The burnished gold of sunsets, now faded
from my eyes, blinds me to the past we had.
Those pictures, colored with washed out shades of
(once vibrant)
alabaster, vermilion –
flesh and blood – breathe life in where life has left.
The verdigris tint has dulled to pale jade
and the suggestion of a blush, now soft,
accentuates my un-kissed ruby lips
still parted in the whisper of your name.

I see the reflection of those sunsets
caught in blue windows – your eyes
shuttered against the truth, our existence.
If they had been captured – alabaster,
vermilion – we’d be blinded together.

© Siobhan