A Springtime Lay
Now is the morning of our Love
and in this playground
this Eden
of our cryptic curiosity
we rise before the rest of the world
to soar on the swing sets
of our fantasies
to kick out our legs and swing high
over one another's
Childlike Nudity and
Innocent Perversions.
We frolic under the covers
of our Ids
and in those wooded bushes of
blossoming wonder,
forging ever deeper into the thicket...
exploring and trying to touch
each other's bums.
I hang from the monkey bars
of your erection,
dangling by my ankles
and spinning on the axis
of the backs of my knees.
I giggle sproncily as
our hairs tangle into the
intricately knotted cobwebs
of May
though we squeal the more
adolescent squeals
of July.
You hold me up by my soiled socks
which bear grass stains
like little battle scars.
You kiss at my scrap-ed knees
and that other wound
from which I bleed
so bravely
and generously.
Our grown-up lives
are for now
grown up into the
tall crabgrass of juvenile marvel
where we toss around the muddy ball
of Conception.
And we attempt to climb to
the tops of these
knarled trees of adversity
to taste for ourselves
Mother Nature's sweet
and legendary fruit.
Branch by branch,
we ascend.
And finally carve our initials together
in hearts
upon our victorious descent,
never thinking how one day
our own children
will climb
these same trees.
05-05-2002