talking of our love,
the loves that hadn't worked before.
Onion waxed translucent
in butter and olive oil;
grains of rice, wine and broth
risotto plumping, concentrating on the stove--
we taste asparagus and mushrooms
drink Alsatian Reisling
look into each other's eyes
and know this time there is a difference
in this love that we can taste and chew--
this love will nuture us.
We reach across the plates and glasses
sparks arc between our finger tips--
we have to have each other for dessert.
After, back int he kitchen,
you call me to you,
unfold your robe
and draw my hand into our wetness--
I fall onto my knees in worship
and to taste of it.
And in the night,
weaving in and out of sleep,
in and out of consciousness--
every time to find you
fodled in my arms--
wrapped up like a present
we are giving to each other.