The memory of the rib brings us closer together - flipside B

The memory of the rib brings us closer together

Chisel and hammer,
in my hands,

wrestle my likeness from
the block of wood
you hewed
of our favorite oak.

I set it to the
front of my ship

She leans eagerly
to wind and salt-water
sprinkles droplets on

unopen eyes. I close
my fingers about the wheel knobs.

familiar to my hands,
they alone guide me.

I sit at my typewriter and
sun warmth echoes
your breath upon my face.

I tilt my head back and
drop through to
the wellspring of my words;

you are there.

No memory of time
when you did not
dwell within me. Like the veins that
link my body, your essence flows
through my soul and makes of us

one body.

I wake in in the night and
roll to you easily. I fold
against your back and legs;

our bodies nest
like scrolled parchment
spooled together.

To my hand, you are captain;

the undulations of your body
provide my map.

I grip your shoulder when
you draw your body
over mine.

In that shelter
I receive peace.

Flesh constructs
no barrier,
but offers
the tool
of our communion.

1990

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