mouth, lips, tongue
we don’t kiss that way here

because i danced for the fire
and then slipped into his flames, like a lover

where bodies cease to exist
in the ineffable within which i myself breathe

sometimes things are almost unmoving, like a hammock
in the far unknown distance, i often hear its whisper
bare and beating

echoes
waning in and out
of touch

unsteady pulse in steady waves
until an echo swells into a sound
on the hardwood

how young
the years from now
(or the end of this book)
when i’ll hear your footsteps
approaching me up on the circling staircases
bringing me the water

and i’ll remember the distance we walked lubov
and all the things that led us back to our hearts

i’ll call it:

the god-like things

 

[excerpt from “The God-like Things” by Lubomira Kourteva]