January 1, 2005
And his name remembered
I have learned many things here.
I know how to stand, how to angle my wrist, how to pour wine into any cup, or even into someone's mouth, without spilling a drop. I know when to speak and when to be silent. I know when to smile.
I don't know anything as deeply as he knows me. I was swept up and swept away, rushed from old life to new with a beating of wings, and he's made my head spin ever since. A butterfly touch to my cheek, a good hard fuck — either way I'm left dizzy.
I know how to turn my head and smile, how to stand and then bend forward just a little, how to lick my lips. How to get kissed.
I know how to get caught, and it's divine. I look into his eyes, and the world falls away, as it did that first day, made small and insignificant by his presence. When he kisses me, I am claimed over and over. When he's inside me, lightning crackles, and the sky trembles, and I can't breathe.
And all I can do is pour myself out for him like wine, and surrender.