Surrealism

  "Lovers don't finally meet somewhere;

  they are in each other all along."

  --Rumi

 I have done what lovers do in Dali paintings:

Climbed your twining limbs to taste the fruits you offer

Swung from your fingers like a star from Orion’s belt

Trimmed my timeworn sails to the wind of your breath.

These things we do in dreams, these things we never thought

Were possible: I have done them. 

I have felt you buried in the roots of me

Felt you rising in my belly like slow bees

Found you in the tall grass of early morning

When you turned your face to me, sleepy-eyed

As a lion on the make: I know you, stranger.

We were in each other long before we met.

Was it you I hunted in primal forests where nightmares ruled?

Was I the rudder that tilled your Viking ship?

We chased each other down the slopes of eternity and tumbled

Into forgetfulness: the fumbled innocence of childhood

The brilliant distractions that baffled and molded us

All through this wild, aching, amnesiac life;

And now we are awake.  These things we never thought

Were possible: we have done them.

I trim my timeless sails to the wind of your breath

I swing from your fingers, a star from Orion’s belt

I climb the lovely limbs of your body

Disappearing, like Dali’s beloved, in the boundless sky behind your eyes.

KB ©2008