he was lying on the couch
a bolster under his knees
she was straddled on top
like a baby wrapped to his mother’s heart
they were resting
maybe she was crying
into the nap of his neck
but in there I saw an effortless
comfort
collapsed and held in the same gesture
they were the weave of one body
they lay merged before passion
resting as a union of mind
I walked past
and my cells reached out
into that empty
longing
for the intimacy under my body
for my body to collide
in that way, to stop
and swallow his heartbeat
as milk
to feel our bellies
breathing as one animal
breathing as one animal
I felt the gap
the missing breath of my own
passion
and the animal that I am
searching
for we have not breathed as one
we have not bled
as one animal
Tags: 2011, intimacy, love, oneness, passion, separate, union, yearning
After I wrote this poem, my Osteo told me of a story where a hunting tribe honours the hunt by wiping the sweat of his exertions on to the thigh of his kill, and taking the saliva of the prey, he wipes it on to his thigh. This marks that they have ‘bled as one animal’ (my Osteo’s words, the day after I wrote this poem).