a new feast

the faults of flesh

are its pleasures, come to an end.

when weaned, be it gradual or sudden,

what feeds us then?

the wise ones live their dying daily,

practicing death to this world

while their hearts still beat against the cage of their ribs with love-

practicing opening to the milk that feeds the soul

until

flesh fails

& falls back to renew the elements of earth

& spirit flies to a new feast.

For Victor on Valentine's Day

He husbands me.
His warm shining smile, calling forth my fruit.
Heart swelling so much - it pushes up the corners of my mouth.
His body, my ground to grow from.
Engineering our days,
He wakes me with naked maleness
and blankets me at bedtime with his comforting.
When Colorado winters get too cold & dry
He transplants me to warmer, moister places.
His laughter and good humor sparkle across our days,
Tickling me without a touch,
Droplets of happiness, refreshing.
He works my barren areas,
Digging deeply to loosen me,
Making room for more life.