Soliloquy Poem by Val Morehouse

Inside the morning this heart is a gong
announcing your presence.
See? This skin of mine is but a sheaf of
pale wheat, ripened to nourish another’s need.

Hear how my voice, a welcoming
wind chime gossiping with reason,
leaps into abandon on the
storm of your coming.

Breath rises, rises from my lips a
soft butterfly that strays from its flower,
bound only to return, wings
beating again, yet again.

For you are the planet on which I walk,
gravity that curves my day and my night
around the ground of
your being.

My brow, a ginger bird, flirts above the angle
of your thigh, until sight flies down dressed in
velvet to sink like moss,
into the contours of your body.

Rock of my world, let me cling,
and cover you with green kisses.
For you, my strong hands spread like starfish,
the way light travels across some

faraway dark to shade
the night with their spark.
Lord, how this tongue of mine
tinctures you anew,

pours into your flowery taste,
spätlese, sun in a bottle, nature boy
all grown up now and wise enough for
the long, slow wine of love.