December 27*

seduction by water. i had to know this, to live by the sea.
it is not one thing.

my veins arise in the high country, the bleeding snowbanks
stone cold purity, the clarity of stars within a trickle
gathering, rolling and shaping the smooth lustrous cobble of memory
filtering through serene roots of old growth fir and cedar
swelling, heavy and slow and arterial in the fertile flatlands

stained from life and death, sucked into the heart of gravity

the vital work is here in the oceansea, the deep salt:
feisty liquid seed, cushion of embryonic fluid
moving to the moon and sun, curling to the spin
nurturing, flooding, giving definition to an entire planet
tempering the dead cold of space and element

with warm female rain

completing the cycle, lover’s touch on desert skin
pulsing wet in searching soul
stoking the insatiable current of desire
to plunge into again and again
and call forth the marvelous swirl.

it is one thing, never the same.

*Copyright 2010 by Luther Allen. This poem appears in The View from Lummi Island.

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2 Responses to December 27*

  1. susanissima says:

    Love the metaphor and the sensory qualities of this piece. Bravo!

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