I want to scrimshaw love poems onto your bones. Scratch the itch of Rumi in endless scrawl knotting our ribs. No, I meant – carve totem poles of beastings, godheads, thunderbirds flying from one place in our story to another. No. I want to begin. Charcoal and burnt offerings, cinders and spark, painting cave walls red and black with our ashes.
First published at Euphemism, Spring 2019
qbit 
applause!
beautiful, qbit!
~David
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Thanks!!!
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This says so much more than it might seem to, describing the arc of a relationship in all of its stages and in order. I mistyped. relationships as “relationwhips” and that’s a point to ponder right there. let the carving begin.
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Hey, thank you for that. Not sure everyone sees the “relationwhips.”
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The art of love through the ages, stages and cultures. Or at least the art of desperately trying to express love… You sure do spin fine magic. After reading it a few of times, Leonard Cohen came to mind…
“Or I’d crawl to you, baby and I’d fall at your feet
And I’d howl at your beauty like a dog in heat
And I’d claw at your heart and I’d tear at your sheet
I’d say please (please)
I’m your man”
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Thank you! Yes, nobody says it better.
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If there’s a desperate love poem, ’tis here – the need to write love with ghosts for ink and “charcoal and burnt offerings” to hallow the deepest recesses a feeling goes. I’m tapping my toes to it. Thanks Randall –
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phew! loving with such passion that the poet wants to leave a mark on the inside. Superb verbalizing there at the start
this reminds me of Mann’s “Magic Mountain” ~ “love is our sympathy with organic life.””
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Thank you! Sorry about the late reply.
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