What Holds Me

Tiny kittens lay heads down upon my chest,
their virgin fur tucked gently 'tween my fingers.
Secure,
they launch their pleasure's test drive,
tentative yet strong and smooth.

Puppies jump into my lap,
their uncontrollable excitement spilling over,
and soak me through
with showers of their sloppy kisses
softly innocent and sweet.

Children bump into my arms
so plump and charming,
chubby fingers interlocking mine.
I watch them stumble over untrained feet
in wonder.


I've held so many things,
but never once what holds my gaze.
Each time any one of these creeps nearer,
so do you.
What if I stepped closer?

Awake

I'm dreaming.
I'm supposed to be asleep,
rocked like a baby
in the warmth of Your will,
and yet I lie awake
rebellious
in the ample bosom of desire.
I taste its nearness
as my eyes slip closed--
flitting open
to the emptiness beside me,
poor substitute for love's affection.

Unborn

The fifteenth.

I’d been looking forward to that day for months—

on that day a train

I would have ridden to Chicago.

And you, my dear,

would have slipped so ever softly

on your own tiny journey.

I’d been carrying you since I was born, expecting

that one day you’d come on time,

unharmed, and whole.

I never felt you coming—

but I knew you where you would be

when you arrived,

somewhere dark and hidden

safe within.

I was on my way to see your father—

or rather,

the one who would have been so,

had I let him.

I was nervous,

for I knew I carried you inside me.

I knew you sat there waiting,

captive in that locked-tight muscled wall.

I knew, too, I couldn’t really keep you

if I didn’t introduce you to him.

In two weeks’ time, you’d slip away

as quietly as you had come.

And if you left, my ache

to hold you in my arms would go unfilled.

You needed him to teach you

what you yourself should be—

the last component
to complex algorithm,

the final note in glorious symphony!

He would have loved to meet you,

to know the color of your eyes,

your skin, your hair,

to let your porc’lain hand curl ‘round his finger.

You would have been like me,

which would have pleased him.

You waited, but he never came.

I kept you from him, child.

Forgive me;

it just wasn’t time.