Boundary of Emotion

Mother Nature knows me too well, it seems.
She feels the boundary of my emotion
and offers up a storm to drench passions
that boil just below the surface heat.

Twisting the limbs of trees, contorting all
flower stems and blades of grass into knots,
she plays with her prey like the cat to mouse,
building fear, desire, and freedom’s hope.

Thunder claps promise the power to come
will be enough to satisfy urges
kept dormant for too long. Releasing her
down-pour of a warm summer rain too soon.

Gone in a flash of lightning, she’s left me
wanting more, stretched out (again) to the edge.




In This Dream

Electricity gathers about her;
snakes up calves, slides between thighs, igniting
a fire beyond her control; white heat.
She senses the downpour churning beneath
the surface; her body begs for release.

Untangling from sticky sheets, she walks out
to greet the storm on her own terms – naked
in the midnight hour, she stands ready
to receive this fury, this force, passion
held in check for too long. Lightning flashes

capture her silhouette against the dark;
the hot-meets-cold wind wraps his arms around,
pulls her close, gently caresses pale flesh.
She has found home once again in this dream.


Swallowed by Thunder

Thunder rumbles, a distant echoing
to this desire.
Boiling inside
pent-up energy overflows
and begs
for release.
Vibrations skate   a  c  r  o  s  s   the sky;
land between belly and thigh
waiting for a lover’s torch
to ignite with lightning flashes
– never hitting the same place twice… intentionally.

Horizon a darkened shade of blue-black
covers sunshine with passionate promises.
Bodies collapse mid-day,
slide between
cool sheets
behind rain curtained windows;
refresh themselves in the late spring shower.
Lovers’ voices swallowed
by the thunder.


When It Rained

Their roof leaked for years; water trickled in,
formed a line down the center of the room.
One day the dining room table was pushed
left of center, with buckets capturing
the drips and the drops; the next it was right
of center and the hutch repositioned
to avoid staining on the wood veneer.
Dining habits revolved around the rain.
Beneath the blemished ceiling, with damage
veiled by an occasional coat of paint,
the scarring crept toward the outer edges,
weakening the structure from inside out.
Perhaps if they had peeled back the layers,
found the weakest places, tended to them,
– perhaps then, when it rained, they wouldn’t have
felt so lost, swept away from each other;
and perhaps then, when it rained, they would have
felt the strength to weather both calm – and storm.


February’s Grey
When the November sky is October
blue and the breeze is a warm September,
I can taste that time we kissed. Chicago
in the rain and Paris with its heat wave,
hold memories no one else shares with me.
The warmth of your palms following the curve
of my waist and hips, caressing my cheek;
finger tips trailing rain drops down between
my breasts – your touch still ignites desire,
even across this span of years gone by.
February’s grey colors in my moods,
doesn’t heed the lines or form, scribbling,
erasing, on a whim, pieces of life
the way it was, leaving me with today.

When Words Aren’t Enough

Rain drips down the pane, the slow drizzle
mirrors the perfumed oil caressing
her back, his fingers draw it down her spine
where he plays in puddled fragrance, splashes
as if enjoying a walk in the wet
world out beyond their bedroom window. 

He murmurs passion for the curve of hip,
length of thigh. His whispers tickle the edge
of her ear, mix with the distant rumble
– thunder – and ignite her own desire.
Bodies slick with the scent of ginger and
sweat, love and lust collide, melt together.
A flash of lightning reflects in his eyes,
telling everything when words aren’t enough.

Embrace the Tempest
She can feel the storm build and break across
her shoulders; lightning travels down long legs –
knife-sharp slices through ligaments, tearing
her attention away from the world.
Tension, built up over time, crashes down
along edges once soft and pliable.
Stiff from holding it together, she falls
into your arms, wanting the sweet release
you offer willingly. She drinks you in,
sweet drops and subtle desire replace
acid rain, thunder, and noise from the past.
The downpour shifts to drizzle; the fog lifts.
She walks out beneath the still cloudy sky,
ready to embrace the tempest again.