I stand at the threshold of your dark domain
not caring if you expect me or not.
When I step through the door I don’t want a word from you.
All I want is your hands – your harsh, hardknuckled hands –
all over my body, familiarizing themselves with its curves
and contours and cache of concealed ciphers.
You keep the key, you own the code;
if only you have the courage.
And later, this exploration finished, I will gaze into your face
and know that you are steeped in my rough magick.
Then – but only then – there can be words.
© 2012 RC deWinter
“The transition from fantasy to reality.*