Ignition

Take me fast, quiet,

two guards at every door.

Wrap me tight

in your extravagant straitjacket,

where the strangling is clean

and silent, since when I kiss,

it will not be as a sister.

You have seen my complete dossier.

I would have made a great man,

but I am a woman,

subtle but effective.

Do not toss me, deranged,

in your landfill;

it is more palatable to give

me something rich

and strange, tribal,
like a Viking funeral.

tk, from my chapbook "Unpressed"

R.A.D. curled up on the steps with my book...

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Transatlantic

Whole sardines line the horizon,

shimmer like eyes after a hard cry.

I smear a silver bite on bread;

think miracles, loaves and fishes,

mouthfuls of ocean,

heaving waves, ways of knowing

the hands of a fishmonger,

a dash of Viking.

The tapestry is nearly done;

I complete it with a sailor's knot,

float it across the water,

add my name to the passenger list,

become next of kin,

drink a toast to St. Elmo's fire.

I let it steal my tongue;

swallow, and still find the taste of it. 

tk/December 2013


Sexy read by the dashing, bewhiskered R.A.D. Stainforth...is it my imagination...or is the boat rocking? 

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Moreish

Wind plays matchmaker,

gently nudges our hips;

whispers in our hair,

fades herringbone horizon

to wool flannel sky.

Hold fast on the lee side,

like the last wet leaves of a Brontë tree.

You say you are a god

knighted by Vikings,

impassable as Hadrian's Wall.

Cleavage lines spill your body

to mine, matching faults.

Length and breadth combine;

congruity that beckons me

to worship. 

tk/September 2013

Thank you, R.A.D. Stainforth, for another excellent read. 

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