for J.
In the heaven of your bliss
that only you know
without knowing you know
serene as Buddha Herself

your eyes like your lips, half open
slits of love barely parted
in all they see inside beyond seeing

and your lips, glazed in their own red
at rest, perfectly composed
in all a woman knows that is you

raised within suffering, of our origin
in all the cells of our body and our sex
that lust drives to return to, sacred
free of rage and ambition

free of everything except nakedness
and being as you are, needing no knowledge,
being the essence of it.


« back to poetry list