Love like Foreign Land IV
It becomes amazing to me
how quickly I'm aware of your presence
way before the first kick,
or before cold gels and fuzzy screens
inside of a doctor's office.
My newly developed keen sense of smell,
as you make me feel life
and the world in high definition.
This is your way of sending me hidden signals.
It lets me know how forever we will bond.
I'll watch you carefully over the next year
growing through me.
Lying in bed wondering what stage you're in
at the moment you cross my mind.
Conditioning you with the finer things
through layers of skin and headphones,
I imagine you hear the muffle sounds
of the music that I play
or how I read you bedtime stories out loud.
You've never seen us
but you've manage to learn our voices.
Leaving tiny handprints in my stomach
from the inside looking out each time
you feel that he is near.
It's like you're aware that you are
just as much his as you are mines.
I wonder what you're doing in there,
maybe drawing pictures in my womb
leaving a story of the beginning
of your history for a future sibling.
I rub you and breathe in real deep,
send my voice and words through whispers
into my stomach instead of out in the hollow air.
I will tell you to take my eyes,
and if you have a choice to choose my lips,
and remember to take my lover's mahogany skin.
I tell you to have his personality
because that is what attracted me to him,
the man you'll soon call father.
I know you'll be a reflection of us,
regardless of who's genes you're blessed with,
as you'll be the perfect blend of two,
evidence that together in union we once existed.
Creating our greatest art piece, between us ever made
Monday, August 13
Love like Foreign Land IV
Sunday, August 12
Love like Foreign Lands III
Always observing carefully
like an inspector, he checks and probes
with delicate intensity
as he traces with eyes
the curve and winding slopes of my form,
squeezing my arm and then my thigh.
I watch him take in the softness of my skin.
Before he rest his head upon my chest.
To him I'm rich and priceless as
ancient artifacts he just uncovered.
wide-eyed he becomes at a notice of my breast,
revealing them from their support
as if this discovering changes everything
in his studies before now.
taking use of all five senses.
touches my belly with eyes close,
begins to read my wants and yearnings like Braille.
presses his ear and breaths quietly,
listens to my lungs fill with rapid air.
he hears how I'm anxious from his presence.
smelling the dried faint scent lingering
on my navel from an early morning shower
now mixed with the aroma of sweat.
so he excites his palate
his mouth moves between each breast,
engulfs and hides each nipple it chooses,
tasting as a rhythmical art form.
tongue loops around the left, right,
right, and back to the left again.
he then eyes each mole like mapping out the
stars in the night sky,
like his guide to find his way back home
after long journeys through my bones and soul.
kisses the first mole at the top
where my forehead and my hairline meet,
kisses the one between my lips and nose,
moves to the one on my right cheek.
finds the one between my breast
(he will kiss there twice)
lifts each arm and leg to search carefully,
applying kisses to each spot, even the
ones that tend to hide, licks lips as he starts to
target the one near the top of my inner thigh.
He's thorough, uncovering down to the tip of my toes.
patiently doing his job, undisturbed in his
method of double spotting each point.
Tomorrow he repeat his routine, and I will let him,
as he makes sure to map each mole again.
comparing his findings with past research,
As he can never be to careful in his expeditions
of documenting my moles in his memories
just in case he just might discover
if a new one appears or an old one disappears.
Thursday, August 9
Love like Foreign Lands
We are Castaways
on an island made for two.
With time the customs become familiar.
Your body I study like a map.
There is a lake under your right eye,
mountains near your ear.
We must be lost living in or near the rainforest
at the base of your neck.
(my favorite place to rest.)
We've journeyed here months ago,
since wandering around searching for oasis
in the desert at your lower back.
Who knew that we'd find peace near your chest.
I've become pretty acquainted with this land of yours,
the rich brown finely texture soil, I could travel
with my eyes closed at night
and still find my way home.
Now I've learn to love this place,
Even if the area and the language of the natives is new.
Maybe within years I can obtain citizenship.
Our childeren will be born. We'll be side by side.
wanting and sitting.
Like how the tree and stone sit together.
waiting to do to each other
what the stone does for the tree
and the tree for the stone.
copywrite Januari - 05/2001
Love like Foreign Lands II
I become 5 years old again
asking you a million in one question
as I'm curious to know your history,
thirsty for the story behind the pictures,
the hieroglyphics that cover your body.
tracing my finger around the large one
that covers most of your chest.
I study the past nicknames,
the design and symbols
that you might have compulsively picked
without careful consideration,
showing how young you probably were
when making poor decision.
I'm intrigued by each piece as they are
the key to your life before me,
I wonder why the guy on your left arm looks sad
or what makes you wanna get the one
on the right side of your chest
covered up with a new image.
I lay my head on my favorite one,
hoping that it will whisper secrets about itself
and tell me gossip about the others,
I wait for them to explain to me
the pain of the past that you sometimes hide.
I kiss the one on your back and conclude for now,
my childlike prowl will have to wait.
I pull you closer to my body and you soon feel
my eyes hint about science projects where
two bodies dissolve into one,
tonight you may not be ready just yet
to decipher your body's visual history,
but I have other ways love,
to find the past, much can be found without words.
So when the sun blends into the night,
you'll melt into my arms.
Where later I'll mold your soul into mines
studying you like a archaeologist with clay.
Delicately unraveling your history.
copywrite Januari - 08/2007