A Critical Thread Poem / 3 poems in the Series
The door of my next step opens. / And into this room I move. / Here there is a pungent spirit. / Lips stick to my soul’s listen. / And the body of this wooing is near
She sits in mystery behind soul-quenched eyes. / Our visual lock is next un-releasing, right when they fuse here with all sights unseen. / Blood and its fire is a language now speaking. / And nothing so powerfully here confirms this. / Our breathing is heaving in the silent shared presence.
The raw observation of soul’s lustful mind cries without a tear for all gone evolution. / I move directly toward the sun of this burning joy without fear. / Volumes of blood pound as the room fills with the flesh of magical emotions. / Nobody flinches in the deedless dialogue. / She raises her thigh and extends her leg to push back the vacant chair opposite her.
I sit and air is orgasmic.
We are both completely certain we are not alone in the living air still. / Alone is here an isolated truth that abstracts the measure of time, space, and motion / A jazz of realities is sung as a song between us. / A slow love burns, the flame is invisible, and there is a low candle on the table. / Ambient love wakes on the edge of sharing the undeniable sound of connecting.
We continue to speak without words. / The force of time whirls against the tides of uncertain ends. / A constant energy lives in the mutual choice to release every aspect of holding. / The naked moment is a responsibility of chemistry here now undressing in the vivid unknown. / Nothing lies between us as we both place rested left hands on the table; palms down.
The rings on our fingers ask questions and give answers. / A synchronized hand dance follows. / We both touch our rings without parting the flame that burns us. / We both lift our rings form the fingers that wear them. / We both place the rings on the table and they touch. The rings do.
And we still do not as the world burns all around us.
Lust is now more powerful than the mourning of love. / Hope is now the utmost dangerous fear laughing. / And still there is no fear or doubt to sexual pleasures found here / In honest ignite of fires burn without wanting. / In a bedroom of time bending want has yet happened. / We smile in uncompromised respect for the dawn.
The wick on the tabletop experiences extinction. / In the douse of our spirits love making we both return the rings to our hands. / Two tears of thanks and gratitude, fall. / And with our cocktail napkins we each absorb the others. / We stand up together and look into each other’s pain shedding.
We stroll together hand-in-hand toward the door. / The life sounds on the other side of the door stab each our hearts. / The questions we will never ask go and laugh for evil has no matter here. / There is no soul compromise in the obvious fog of love’s night. / We are enveloped by a love beyond time and its taking.
We never leave each other standing there. / We never hold nature or hold back the smiling in our hearts. / We are without knowledge of ever seeing each other again. / The affair that will never end is over nothing started it. / The door of our love lives open and each alone step into all the next moments that will be a new eternity of air now.
There is something to be said of love that lives / through and over an endless romantic / understanding of fire.
© Copyright 2008 C.C. Arshagra
From the Manuscript series “The Integrity of Erotic Poetry" series and collection / Volume 3 “Nothing Lies Between Us” (Unpublished Work)