Sunday, June 17, 2012

Mother and child

I can’t stop looking at them
an intruder into a moment of love
I have no part of.
I never saw love caught on film like this
A pregnant self portrait
followed by bloody afterbirth
and then, searing passion
not love-making for a man or woman
but love between mother and child
so raw and potent,
I can’t stop looking,
your naked shape drawing me in
as if I was still a child, too,
my mouth aching to go
where your child’s mouth has been
I can’t stop looking,
mother and child riding utterly calm seas
setting sail on some new life
as companions,
your face showing the future
like a map of a new world
over which there is no edge to fall,
a black and white world,
full black clouds against which
the sails seem immune
I can’t stop looking,
and wishing I was there,
traveling back in time,
seeking out those people
as if to fill some void I sense
when there is no void between you
love bonding the two of you
together in ways
nothing else could,
time cementing it so that these moments
these pictures
draw me in
with envy
your sensuality as blazing
as sunset on horizon
scorching me
each time I open my eyes,
too intense, I ache to be there,
rocked in your arms like that child,
my mouth inches from your breasts
waiting for substance,
each image so passionate
I want to embrace them all,
to be there,
to witness it,
to love and make love
in that black and white
world where you
have always lived.

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