sunday morning/AKOK) REPLY

 

 

i want to make love, patch up holes and make whole again, un-harm a heart harmed with a hammer, un-arm another’s arms with tingling warmth, and at the same time, arm their bones with tiger endurance. 

I WANT TO MAKE LOVE, FEEL THE ASPIRATION IN A DIMPLED WOMAN’S EYES 

the unhurried motion in which the eyelids fall, affording me ample space to make sense of the encoded; feel the dots on the other lids erect to prick me in sudden excited salutation. I want to rub fur, propose tried theories to the skin question. 

the mouth owns a mind too, so i want to observe its diplomacy with a queen’s, be made aware of new tongues swirl in asa foforo as tearful teeth hold their palms to their breasts in awe from the sidelines of new history. i want to hear fingers gossip like young maids; cordial slaps which have various meanings, double words which hold single meaning on second thought. 

i want to feel new claws replace gorgeous manicure and tell their position as they burrow into all too familiar back area. meanwhile, i too, want my fingers to be stealth, till it shapes into the large secure spider pose which possesses and passes me control. so that now, the spine is in my hand, the chest is on mine, the chin waters my shoulder and the breath regulates the mood-preture at my upper back. 
i want to make love, strike a woman’s woman with a rod and watch wine trickle, then gush, then trickle again, all in parallel echo from beyond twin mountains above. i want to intoxicate ohemaa in ways her anatomy can nearly tolerate. 
and then, i want a satisfied silence, a parcel containing a new supply of vitality impishly labelled ‘exhaustion’. i want a calm hand in my chest, panting hair in my eyes, joy in my teeth. 

praise the Lord, by the way 

SPIRITS!