he takes me where I ask
and finds me a home
finds me alone
and begging for his hand
but alongside I whisper
my desperate fears
he wants to learn
and I tell him why
I just want to be
after such a thing
in the arms of him
wrapped up and safe
moving now feels foreign
he lovingly accepts
lacing fingers with fingers
arms with arms
face pressed against breast
and the times I cry
he says it's ok
no, I don't scare him
no, he understands me
and he finds me a home

04/25/2003

Author's Note: Yesterday Eric and I had been arguing over the phone about silly things I can't even remember, but soon after I found my old notebook and some poems I hadn't posted. In a rare moment of confidence, I read him a few - this being one. As I came to the last line, I found myself in tears. But the greatest thing was him... he said, "I understand it all now. Why you write your poetry. What it all really means." I think he had a pagan poetry moment. What joy. And that's why I'm posting this now.

Posted on 08/13/2003
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