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Ukrainian church.

Under a Baltimore City moon.

Full moon, low and plump, Positioned for a long night, With starry dust, A city’s summer ends, long overdue. Fall’s pulse beating, A quiet port sits, Sails hit, “Clang, clang…” In twos, fewer than in June. Train whistling from afar, A mix of chill with warm southern air, And a hint of humid dew. September wind, Runs through, Fells Point, Kissing my cheek, My bare arms and feet. No, I can’t let go.

Under a mauve-fogged sky.

We walk under a dusky, Mauve-fogged sky. Mother Nature’s breast, Nourishing under watchful eye. She sees you looking at me, So intently, intervening, Cedar musk scent, Kissed by her lips, Guiding us to a red leaf tree, You seek. Some light, almost night, Unable to wait, you, Whispering, “I must fuck you now, my Queen." Showering your obsession, Breath on my neck, Disturbingly calm. Your mix of love with force,

Warehouse.

Water tower 1 of 2.

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Water tower 2 of 2.

When Tootsie walks.

When Tootsie walks, you grin, “She’s your cat.” I look to see. The sway in her tail, Taking her time, Side to side. She is sweet, She es la diabla. She is without a doubt, The finest, En la ciudad. Pero, Ella es dulce como el azúcar, and, (me tienes atado a tu corazón). También, She enjoys the finest music, Fado, jazz, classical. Brunch on the mezzanine. Nothing less, Than a foam firm pad,

Where the wildflowers grow.

Where the wildflowers grow, Towards the sunlight, In fleets of vibrant colors, Encapsulated in early evening dew. Within grasp, the late afternoon, Sun dropping off, Behind trees, We walk to the farmer’s stand, Holding hands, With night starting to move. Air is heard two seconds, Before caressing our skin. Among chirping insects, Kneel to worship, The canvas of pink, Warm yellows and greens, Violets, Grouped in couples of twos. Skies and clouds peeking through,

White bark tree.

I visit our haunt, In dreams. Running through, Yellow leaves. Barely night. Holding each other, Close to one another, We move. In our solitude, A moody nocturne, In the minor key, Of whispers and talks. When noise only, Becomes so lonely, This space, A trunk’s dark lines, Branch and air, You are home. My unfurling, Against a white poplar, Feeling between, The rough and soft, Towering tall. Kissing, touching, Bare skin raw,

White petal stem.

You I feel transparent for, When you dance, Around me, Twinkling whites, Under a soft glow with light. Your black silk pressing into, My white petal stem, I succumb to you. Between Jerusalem and Mexico, a taboo love.

Wisdom line.

Yellow mood.

You are... Sun.

The strength of your extremities, Penetrating, Empowering, enchanting, to, Overwhelming, overpowering, Taking over me. You melting, Thousands of moons in distance, After, Surrounding me by only, You, A God-being, In the afternoon. You, I feel, Against the outer parts of my body, And into the inside of me. Cut in quarters… One for love, For you, The calm innocence, and the, Anger, Filling up in you, No matter how much,

Your smile in the summer.

You hold my left hand, Across the pink weeds, I run my right hand, Through each one in the breeze, The grass brushing across my knees. In all of vast I see, You were too much for me. I followed you anyway through, Each season. I only see your smile in the summer, Before the sunlight blinds me, And you leave for the South. Following you, You look back at me,

מאירה…

Exodus along the ocean’s side, A familiar walk from Egypt, Chag HaMatzot. A wave crashing above, My lover’s head, Poseidon’s voice then howling, “What have you done…” Across this oceanfront, Will the words, Memory’s face, Leave an imprint, On our hearts, or, Make our hands, Slip away from us, Lose. If I try to stand, On the sand, Past has brought me to, On this sacred, only space, Promised by God, Will I be safe to be with you,