doreen peri
word dancer
doreen on cape cod, april 2000
love flame in four parts
i.
It is dead winter and yet the warm days are upon us,
the daze of four eyes far past lies into never forget,
the yet and long and yet and long the burn
of here and yet, here and yet, hear the sound of forever
in the crackling of wood, never understood.
The colors, some brighter blue, some with hues
of reds and orange creeping through as the
pine, wet with ice, tries at least twice to catch flame,
begging the instance with lame excuse for lost language.
Listen. There are cardinals chirping good morning,
hours before the dawn. The male night has a skirt on,
the moon just a half of all, threatening to be more.
And so I adore you and implore you to listen for more.
Listen for more.
There are flames lit up on the top of piled timber,
dry and wet, they are limber and burning like lust,
just the way your trust is with me, superficially questioning
inadvertent mindless clicks. The computer screen
glows like this while my head is in your lap,
tapping my touch to center your soul.
ii.
I stared with you into the flame, your face,
your skin so hot, your name was parted to my heart
straight through and past, the fasting hunger, lame;
each whip and lap of hot blue flash, cast fast
by blasts of fiery lick, flicked quick the light,
white wisps of night, flirtatious in their waves, their trick.
I stared with you into the flame until my name enveloped yours.
The fireplace, entire space, endures the passion of your lures.
iii.
Who knows why there are sparks from beneath
hard dry lumber or thunder from around the
rumbles of hungry stomachs or ignorance
or distance or decisions to ignore
Round the round round Around of Sound,
there is always harmony. There is always
harmony. And yet you have set the despondency
on the controls for nil and i can't feel you 'til
you want my hand. I land on it with grace,
tasting the face of Eden with my tongue in cheek,
speaking praise like a hymn, welcoming in scripture.
Our love is fire most pure, the most fulfilling,
the most enduring, willing blessing and I am investing
every breath, inhaling the wealth of you with
each residue of coal. My goal is our flame lit.
I desire Us because of it.
iv.
Warm me in the jaunt of phrased lyrics. I will endear you
by loving you when we're apart and one on fire. I'll sing you soft
with desire, each key a harmony of itself, wealthy in its own playing,
so clay, so formidable, the star, far and away becoming Hope itself
and more. We have wealth. We are rich with heat, so warm me
with your stitching sewn on the edges of combustion.
The fire burns down; the embers are slow
and the birthing crackle of snow is hot, iced,
grazed by silent voices, stacked on lines.
There is no time I wouldn't love you.
No time. No time.
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