Bread and Blood


The lip bruised by love's excess,

then kissed for healing and apology,

but kissed for sweet salt's taste as well.

The blue pulse in the turning wrist,

The blue pulse in the elbow's pit,

The blue pulse on the neck,

The blue pulse in the thigh,

in the hollow of the groin:

Kissed, each, once and then again.

The rose suffusion of blood:

a layer of skin below the skin,

warm garment of living blood,

love's body paint, love's mantle,

Kissed again and then once more,

with lips that ride the surface of desire

like a drifting merlin,

riding the body's currents,

the wings of desire,

the winds of desire.

The bleeding chalice of the moon:

Kissed lovingly, baptizing love and lover.

Love is like wine–good white, good red.

Love is like blood–hot, liquid, necessity.

Poetry Writing Dancing Badger