Your voice comes from the clouds
Like rain falling on grass
By the edge of a forest
When the dogs are quiet
There, near the lake.
The moon is rising and the wind
Seems to shake the birches.
But it's not a breeze - it's me.
Perched on the telephone wires
Unable to come back down to earth
*
Olive oil dripping
Between your breasts
Naked skin slipping
Into a lake.
Magnesium calming
Jangled nerves
A butterfly unfurling
Inside your heart
A horizon of mountains
That are actually clouds
Cool vodka
On a dry tongue
*
It wasn't hard
One look in your eyes
And I was already weightless
As soon as you touched me
I grew wings.
It wasn't hard
Taking off with you
Circling the earth
Eight times in one day
Flying all night
Wing to wing
And on the second day
Breaking the sound barrier
The boom rolled across the horizon for ages
None of this was hard
Our only rule was
Breaking all rules
Breaking all records
No expectations no promises
No limits no ends.
Flying is easy
The hard part is landing.
Peter Jukes 2003-6