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.