It should not surprise me that each of my novels has a poem at its core.
And “each of my novels” means the one I am writing now, and the three that are waiting in my journal for their turn.
One of those still in the journal has the working title Sky+Moon—which, yes, is bad but will lead to something better—and these two work-in-progress poems. (Which, yes, are also straight from the roughest of rough notes, but ya gotta dance with who brung ya.)
When I see you
your fine chin and your
broad shoulder, the curved line
of your waist and the sway
of your hip, your long arms and strong
legs—with their hands and their
feet dancing through air as you
leaps the space between
us, before my body and
my head have known
what they must do
Lie beside me on the shaded grass
your head on my shoulder
the sun on our feet,
lie here and I will tell you
the story of our lives, when you
are my beloved and I hold you finely
as the sky does the moon.
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