Alchemisland

Now I write of things pleasant, cleanse my palette of death’s mention

An ode to love tender and long lasting, varied and sensual, mysterious

Tension of a life spent in willing company, the will subdued but the heart freed

Of its foremost need, that deed once signed marks a love that should shine eternal

A shrub ere returning, eventually into a tall tree turning, learning all there is to know

Burning like napalmed palms to be near you, my palm on your leg

Fearing you and fearing loss of you, I see lots of you, Lot’s wife some part of you

Looking back, your head like an owl’s ever-turning, your need for something

Even you do know what, we are growing together and apart, in the margins

Of other lives, taking part we are part time actors, set dressing, overeager extras

The sex is good but doesn’t last, you move past the ass eventually, last

To go is the massive, crushing weight of shared experience, the appearance 

Of all you have done or will be in another person’s countenance, counterstance

To you, your wingspan comrade.