Barefoot

A Poem

Tremors in the air
A quickening pulse
That’s how it feels, just before dawn
Standing on the brink
Of a sun unseen
Light yet to lacerate the indigo
A frisson of heat rises from the clay
The earth, a lover’s skin
Breathing beneath our bare feet
Feral currents stir in the dust
Between our toes
A semaphore of something untamed
Arguments
A fusillade of whispered truths
Shouted secrets
Unfurling like a silken banner
A tapestry of words
Woven with the tensile strength of conviction
Each word, a brazen brass bell
Resonant chimes of veritas
Shattering denial
Our minds are battlefields
From which reality is forged
From the crucible of debate
My sheets are a whorl of tangled limbs
Spectral dreams
A palimpsest on which my secrets are scrawled
A communion transcending consciousness
A language only spoken in the dark
A conversation of skin and breath
Your hands are not hands
They are cartographers charting constellations
Telling a story against my skin
Your touch, a silent solace
Settling the tumultuous sea underneath
I am no granite statue
No impassive sentinel at guard
I cannot feign indifference
Or pull tight the cloak of nonchalance
More than a fleeting glance
Transient shimmers on the periphery of awareness
A portal
An open door held wide
To shed the chrysalis of caution
And step into the searing, unvarnished light
Of the sun