Flor de Fango

you will be covered with shame

Break Down—Break Through

DNA shards sloughing off
through our sojourn in Obidiah

With my nest not set in the stars
But in the rich Spanish Fango

Sephardi in my bloodlines with
A kink in my spine to prove it

We travel to our home of destiny
My little Flor de Fango
My sweet Mud Flower

Fantasy

Tell me your fantasies, he whispered,
brushing a whisp of hair,
rich and glossy as honey dates,
away from her eyes.

Tell me your fantasies, he whispered,
tracing the line of her arm,
warmed and tanned by the desert sun,
with his finger.

Tell me your fantasies, he whispered,
gazing into her eyes,
blue and refreshing as the life-giving water of an oasis.

Tell me your fantasies, he whispered,
and I will tell you mine.

Pouilly Fuisse

We have spent the day at the beach
(my lover—my mistress—my paramour)
our towels merely feet from the tide
as close as we can get is what we want

We lay side by side and fall asleep
(the heat—the sounds—the mist)
the tides creep closer to our slumber
bodies paralyzed by liquid dreams

Washing out to sea with no cares
(divorce—family feuds—sunburns)
floating on the  endless sea grass
we finally crack open the Pouilly Fuisse

Drink my love, drink
and I will drink to thee