Would you think me cruel

to know

I wished a certain woman

“undone.”

With one breath I close my eyes

and imagine.

With the next I open my eyes

and wish.

Wish for the crest of a certain moment,

near a place in time that slices and divides in on itself.

That moment of “just before”

When… she nods a certain nod

- and gravity conspires with a wish,

- and a woman yields to the fall,

Unleashed somewhere between

an inhalation ,

and an exhalation,

where at the mark of a broken breath

a river of silk flows and breaks free,

- free, to slip across her brow

- free, to slip across her cheek

" free" to fall in a perfect tumble past her shoulders.

Time smiles...

"stagger-steps"

and s t r e t c h e s the moment,

painting out slow motion reflections,

highlighted in golden copper, mahogany, and chocolate.

In that divided moment

my eye holds to a perfect blur that flows

down,

…….. down,

……………..down,

…………………… so beautifully down.

And there in a place,

where gravity plays and sways,

marking her moment “undone”

(in that in-between place that bridges one moment to the next)

I catch her face in profile

And in that half hidden "in-between moment"

I see the trace of her subtle smile.

The moment yields to the next, and lets go ...and her long tumble fully unwinds,

as she bends... and lets the last fall -

sliding down into the moment called "completely undone” Where she bends posturing her defeat... while smiling her victory.

Whispering as she covers me "in defeat is victory ~ in victory is defeat."

"I know" I whisper back as her long fall of silk covers me... "I know"

.

.

Greg Hughey January 2012 ©

** thanks to my friend Karen who let me use her picture

.

Those near breaths drawn so deep,

Count them back…nine, eight, seven,

Slipping back to a breath

Held just before,

- your surrender to sensual bliss.

Remember the rush, and the rise,

Of a heart searching out the signs,

On growing exhalations

Those blown so far past heaven.

… on a wordless wish.

Would you still wonder at the depth,

Of those long pulled inhalations,

* those drawn at the edge of a first kiss?

A roll of thunder in your heart,

The thunder driving your pulse,

You smile and relive where you stood ,

When the beats of separation were no more-

Than six, five, four.

Each new current gathering speed in life,

… the pulse of first love marked

- “fast and irregular.”

Remember the surges with tides so alive,

Nearing the arc of something so electric,

Flushed lips readied and readied again with “quick licks”.

Swaying so innocent in the brush of a gentle touch

- you danced past everything secular.

So curious is that little smile-

Mona Lisa we know… but do you know,

- how hard is the pounding of a pulse….

* beating at the edge of a first kiss?

At a junction where hopes came true,

- all counting down to the three, the two, the “one”.

Emotions, anticipations, and excitations

each lined up as you stretched trust past risk,

…with new dreams afire.

All those needs so long left unspoken,

Magically unfurled like flags in the wind.

So hard to speak words-

when you’ve an impulse to bolt and run!

Yet with lips trembling,

You still closed your eyes - and leaned forward …

The newest little “soldier of desire”.

How powerful are the hopes laid,

* at the edge of a first kiss?

...

Greg Hughey Nov 2002 / Revised June 2004 / 3rd Revision August 2005 ©

*for her