Finally!
We make it
out of the bedroom!
Days becoming nights nights becoming days
(nothing but cuddles)
making endless endless love.
Leaving the sacredness
of this our bed
the nakedness of our embrace
(as if we were Adam & Eve
thrown out of the Garden of Paradise)
merely to wee
or make a cup of tea
(as is the English custom)
which we then
leave...go...cold.
Time
no longer
scarred by its human markings
leaving behind such meaningless things
as minutes days or hours.
Time now
composed only of
our love.
Shipwrecked now
in the vast sea of downstairs
we crawl to
the safety of a sofa.
Perched prim & proper
(being all English)
and nakedly eating
cucumber sandwiches.
You laugh & tell me
it is ye olde English custom.
One I could easily
get accustomed to
its nakedness
greatly appeals to me.
But now
wanting to lie
in each other’s embrace again
we struggle
with limbs
to accommodate
ourselves
upon this too tiny
sofa.
as if we were
an illustration
for a lavish edition of
The Kama Sutra.
Finally!
We discover...invent...create
(call it what you will)
the beauty of what we
will come to call
“The Boat.”
Your toes
flutter by my ears
my toes
fluttering by yours
locked into position
joined at the hips.
Locked
into this open embrace
able to
all at once
stroke each other
here...or...there
whilst gazing into
each other’s eyes
reach out and touch
the side of a face
(or the barest of cheeks)
or the nakedness of the crease
between inner thigh and...
or
any other place
you’d care to imagine
or even mention.
And so
with this wonder of human construction
(our marvellous engineering
of each other’s flesh)
such skill
such lover’s ingenuity
we merrily
(merrily)
row our boat
gently
gently in our dream
letting Time
(once again go hang)
float
float...away.
Our minds drifting
upon the seas of our
heightened senses.
Locked in love
& laughter
I teaching you
the Irish for it
“Gra agus gaire! ”
“Gra agus gaire! ”
“Love & laughter! ”
“Love & laughter! ”
Us eating
(either each other or)
endless naked cucumber sandwiches
as is
(so you assure me)
the English way
and I happily adopting
to its custom
quoting Alice
in our wonderland
of love &
devotion.
“It’s my own invention! ”
as the White Knight would say.
Our boat
transporting us
to both
sleep or ecstasy
sleep
or
ecstasy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I will let it be, this moment of yours from mine. In utter disdain of the paucity of appropriately and adequately beautiful words. What are words in front of images that conjure in the mind of a beautiful time of new inventions, learning and love.