perhaps it is time I moved from servant to mistress of the word
celebrate my continued dalliance with illicit thought and form
and the form does fascinate
i wrap a length of skilled tongue around possibilities
twist and deftly flick a nuance of meaning
and watch you shudder with delight
recognize a gentle intent
focused on pleasure and a delight of like minds

the nature of the word
reflects the nature of the body
the strength and weakness of each in turn
nurture/wrap the chysallis of our bodies
the transmutation of souls
the fomentation of desire

once we burst forth into new worlds together
and went our separate ways
an odyssey of mind
but i am not penelope and you are not ulysses
i wait for no one
and you do not return
though it makes for good tale

stories shared at campfire where chance crossed paths
enhance close warmth
of the dancing light of reason against the night
embers come to flame with a gust of words
respite from insistent darkness
illuminate our words and the worlds inside our heads

the intention of utterance
is best left as semiotic
the meaning is always negotiated
in this journey of words and minds
 
 

8 july 2001

nancy faye hill
all rights reserved

main page
poetry index