These little lyrical pieces in the first person continue (one sentence a day, I can do it, I can do it, and it expands too)... with apologies to those of you who find the heat unbearable :) I have enough of these small prose poems for a suite now and I'll try to do a reading over the weekend and post it for you.
Heat presses like a great Turkish steam bath. I lie on my back contemplating hotness; on sand yellow cotton sheets, the soft aquamarine silky nightdress a wave that partially covers me. Soaking in warmth without resistance, so unlike the rigid response to the cold Winter air when I am retracted, conserving heat. This is the season that I await, these are the nights that I await; the air thick with the steam of a sweat lodge, I sprawl open, the incalescence that pervades the air an insistent masseuse. Breathing the torridity, the loves of my life flicker like heat lightning in a slideshow of memories that reach into the past, and in the deep and fragile night, smiling, my glowing heart, my sighs join the sultry air.
technorati Profile: technorati tags: heatwave, massage, deep relaxation, healing, loves of one’s life, heat lightning, gratitude
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
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-oh, writing process- on Metaphor
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finding pleasure in the cycles we cannot avoid anyway. ah, beautiful. I love the allusions, and your sense of comfort.
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