The girl in the food court sits
in a streak of light
peeling a mango slowly.
She eats its meat with
abandon, the juice
dripping on her skin
so she licks, child-like,
unaware of lustful eyes
watching innocence,
hoping hers is just a game.
fibers
I am silk and angora
carded, blended, spun
into smooth sheening thread
twisted and pegged as warp to a loom.
You are raw silk, coarse and heavy,
deceptively strong;
the weave � knowledge and restraint
thrown through my warp of desire and innocence
Our individual passions and experiences
bind us together with each throw
of the shuttle, drawing
our hearts and minds into the pattern;
making a marriage blanket
wrapped about our paired shoulders
on the day of our joining.
For we were joined by the village elders
under the ancient banyan tree;
by she of the cotton hair and wizened skin
who gave us flowers for our hearts
and seeds for our future children
but spoke no words as she did these things.
None were needed.
Our blanket speaks for us.
Four Dimensions
A painter paints the woman
at her bath,
nude and relaxed
as she refreshes herself
in pleasant surroundings
while
a sculptor carves her
playful form in
white marble and
polishes it to a luster
that imitates the glow
of her skin.
The poet imagines
the woman with her hips
arched in passion,
depicting her pleasure
in vivid words
while
I dream of holding her soft
curves � of forming my body
around her sleeping one
and of stroking my hand
from her shoulder to her hip
as she shifts in slumber.
I speak from a burning bush
whispering to a Moses
who kneels. My voice trembles
with the heat of passion, his
faces presses hotly to the ground
in an act of worship that
makes my limbs grow weak and heavy.
Words lick across skin, spreading
new fires along our limbs.
Our flesh is not consumed and
the burning is not quenched though
moisture abounds between the roots
and flows down in heavy streams
that satisfy all our thirsts.
We bow, shoeless, on holy
ground, bare and open to each
other. Limbs intertwine in
mimicry of dancing flames
as we bow towards opposing
bodies, meld together, and
are enveloped by the heat.
Sandalwood Dance
Come and dance with me tonight
In soft and shadowed candlelight
Layered in scents of tropic mango.
Come and dance a sensual tango
In air that's filled with spicy wood �
Musk and herbs and sandalwood �
Shaded with subtle sweet jasmine
From the lotion smoothed on skin.
Come dance and hold me in your arms
Those strong and muscled, long forearms.
Come dance and hold me to your chest
So I feel heart beats against my breast;
I want my body to mold to you
As we dance the whole night through.
Come dance until the night greets dawn
And the moon and starts are gone.
Come tonight and dance with me
For, tonight, we both are free.
Come tonight and take the lead
So smooth seduction can succeed
And our bodies slowly slide
Into the all-consuming guide
Of passion metered and beating fast
Pulling in rhythms that cannot last.
Come and dance until we must
Succumb to every present lust.
Part of the tango that we dance
Is scented candlelit romance.
Come an dance unclothed and nude
The music just a brief prelude
To passion veiled in simple clothes
That desires to be exposed.
Song of Songs
Journal
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All work �Shulamith Smith, 2004 unless otherwise noted.