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
Thursday, August 9
Love like Foreign Lands