To Breathe You In

To breathe you in, and follow every curve
Of you; to take the time that is required
To know each space, and what then best can serve
For all you dreamed of, hoped for, or desired –

To focus on you, into you, in joining;
The rain, a steady noise upon our ears –
No more half-seeing, missing, disappointing —
Together finding asterisk frontiers –

For all that interrupt’s in off position;
No sound except the beating of the rain,
And those we make, those of our own volition –
This time, our own, and this space our domain.

    And then to wake, with sun’s first morning beam,
    To find you gone, and know ’twas just a dream.

Old Poem, Age 24 (Edited)

[I had completely forgotten this poem and the event it refers to. At the time, I would not have thought that possible, so hard did it hit me. – Owen]


One night, you gave yourself to me
  the next night you had gone away
I do not understand
I do not understand at all

I still remember how it felt
  to be right next inside of you
I do not understand
I do not understand at all

The wine the bath the touch the kiss
  the hours spent in all of this –
The feel of you the sound of you
  the taste of your intention

One night I do not understand
I still I do not understand
The wine I do not understand
I do not understand

A Life She’s Never Had

She reads about a life she’s never had;
Of men, romantic, focused, fully there –
And yearns with an intensity quite sad,
For all she’s wanted, but could never share

The man she married: forceful and intense.
It’s had its moments, some bad and some good;
But she knows now, he’s never really cared
To understand her needs or wants – nor could.

They never watch a movie that she’d like,
They are with his friends, if with friends at all;
He comes home with desire, late at night,
She is a sort of wifely booty call

But in these books, that he thinks silliness,
She finds the searching look, the soft caress;
The women there are loved by men, and more:
They’re not just someone he comes home
To score

8 Portraits, #6

Days and weeks of perpetual seduction.

We’d each been married before, and those disappointments fueled a mutual gratitude towards each other that made love stronger.

There were days and weeks of perpetual seduction, which I yielded to at every turn.

She lay stretched across the bed facing away from me as I came out of the shower. She said, “I have something for you.”

I asked her what that might be.

She said, “you’ve touched my spirit, and the body comes with it.”

I found little to complain about with that arrangement.