Our Only Day

Today
you are more endearing
than yesterday—
now that I know how you feel
about that tulip tree
you introduced me to—
the one so big
we both could give it a hug
and still not reach
each others fingertips.
You took me off the trail
to show me its secret life—
and in reverence we stood
on its fallen branches
covered in moss
as green as my envy
that all your love
has already taken root
elsewhere
and I am just something lost
in the wind,
caught for a while
on one of your perfect branches.

 

 

 

DeMaris
12-31-16

Painting by Lawren Harris, 1914-1917
“Algonquin Sketch”

Alphabet

How small they are—
our sins.
We could
break them down
into words
then into letters
which could seem
almost entirely
insignificant
if they weren’t
exchanged between us
in secret
in the dark hours—
and if they weren’t
forming complete
sentences
that were building
a bridge between us
that one day soon
we will cross over.
And we will
cross over—
and when we do
there will be no
forgiveness
waiting
when we need
to turn around
to go back home.

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
12-31-16

 

 

Burn

I am a third degree burn
after your fingers became flames
that seared a path around my waist—
and we were in a public place
but you found my skin
under my flimsy shirt
and melted me into your arms
just long enough for me to know
for sure—that I will smolder
until my hands can discover your skin
and burn this desire back into you.

 

 

 

DeMaris
12-29-16

Semantics

I know why
there are
so many words
for the act
of intercourse:
sex
screwing
fucking
getting it on
making whoopee—
all these words
and phrases
so that
the holy of holies—
Making Love
can never truly
be hijacked
for use
in any bed
or on any blanket
that doesn’t
contain
two people
who are naked
down to their
souls.

 

 

 

DeMaris
12-28-16

Photograph by Imogen Cunningham “Two Callas,” 1929

Empty

Nothing
is what I feared
we’d be left with
if we didn’t wait—
if we spent each other
like dimes
at a candy store—
and here we are
with the wrappers
scattered on the floor
and my stomach
starting to hurt
because
I knew when to stop
but I didn’t want to.

 

 

 

DeMaris
12-27-16

 

 

Selection Process

To you, girls like me
are a dime a dozen.
We step into your field
of wildflowers hoping
not to blend in—
hoping you’ll notice
something beautiful
in the way we stand
or sway or weather
the unforgiving sun—
that fire we pray will not
wither our uniquness
before you stop
and kneel down beside us
with your garden sheers
to make your difficult
and final choice.

 

 

DeMaris
12-27-16

So Close

Finally
it seems we have arrived
at the same place

and all of a sudden
you are within sight
within reach

and I can almost see
that blue
is the color of your eyes

and you
can see the trepidation
coloring mine

and you could
take a step closer to me
if you wanted to

and I could
take a step closer to you
if I wanted to

and we would close the gap
if there was nothing
between us but air

but that air
is filled with obligations
and promises

and innocent hearts
we have no right
to break.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
12-26-16