The photos in my head flip fast – love of the present, love of the past.

Hot showers, touch on my back,

Your hand on my throat, the way your mouth stays open,

Moist in your stare – I am soaking.

Lips that stop breath, soft suction to nipple like flesh.

My branches part to  make room for what you awaken,

Our limbs to intertwine into the tree, roots we allow down below are shaking.

Leaves fall and leave me bare and willing.. for you grasp me with palm open and I am held and freely giving.

(Rochester, NY. Spring 2009)