Aldo’s Crying
Fire, your longing, your
long-throated longing–
I’m holding you not because you
need to be, but because
honesty ripples like a salve
through your throat, your eyes,
your fired-up muscles, all the initial
spark of egg meets sperm.
Crash and bang, my wave,
my magma.
Sweep us
out of our chair to primal landscapes.
I ought to feel guilty
to love that orange ignition–
to hope for it.
1 reply on “Aldo’s Crying”
Beautiful, honest and vivid. What more could you want?