Woman Oh Woman
By what logic did your heart suddenly open itself to me?
From what font of wisdom was it intuited that I should be?
And be your lover?
And how was it that you should fit the confines of my silent spaces?
Beyond the range of any possible human tolerances?
And why, when my hand carves out beauty, your form rises to meet it?
By what serendipity did I arrive to be there next to you?
And how was it you welcomed my intimacy so joyfully?
Me alone amidst a field of flat stones?
What planetary alignment could ever explain us?
What forces are at work, or perhaps at play, creating “us”?
Sourcing us, as it were, from solitary atoms of non-existent matter?
But does it matter, these questions that I ask?
Perhaps the only answer that needfully be
is there in the dew
that my presence brings to you.
Perhaps… perhaps… it’s only my imagination that made you.
A wild dream from some somnolent land
Where butterflies sing a form of the blues
And double suns hang in the sky
An alien land where dreams can come true…
Perhaps, oh woman, your grateful sigh
Warm and humid upon my skin
Is answer enough to fill a man’s sky.

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