H o n e y a n d B lo o d
It’s something you don’t forget
Like your first double-rainbow
Or your favorite crying place
Or your proudest igloo.
Warm pulsing from my drum
Undulating to my extremities
And to yours, my cold-hand friend,
Though a heart beats for itself alone.
We’re spinning, like gears
Or yin-yang, with balance
And we love it, the pace
Keeps us both moving, alive.
Until question calls for pause:
Healthy? Deserve? or something like that…
So I stop; you stay spinning,
And the friction is all my fault.
We burn and scrape and peel
And start to stain the floor
And each other with the drip
Of blood from our arms and honey from our eyes.
I’m sorry, and I keep spinning
And you smile a gentle grace.
Our feet pivot patter again
And the elixir below us coagulates
Crystallizes into memory-opals.
We look down as through a window
At all the stuffed animals and security blankets
We ever had hugged.
Meanwhile the tendrils of healing
Weave an amethyst thread
In and out of mine and yours – our wound
More binding than oath or ring, conjoined at the hand and the soul.
And we spin again, now in the same direction
With a still glass pool of myriad memories under our feet.
I need you like the even stars. I love you like gravity.
A friend is not found,
And “dear” is an epithet to mean
I wouldn’t have it any other way.