Beloved, how much of me is left
when you leave...
Beloved, don’t worry, imagine:
Intertwined lovers in
a separation only atoms can split.
Pheromones, like phalluses penetrating deep,
barbed and hooked into primordial memory.
Blade and sheath.
Passion and play.
Idolatry is murmured from lips to ears.
Religions are converted in clear cut cries.
Sacred and profane reverse roles,
With sweat and intent the lubricant.
Egos are impaled and filtered through the abyss,
leaving only the fully flushed Id.
Even when a light, unseen, pares back the darkness,
replacing it in totality before sinking back
to the drowning, eternal source...
Even when and the dry plains and plows are left sodden and soft...
Even as the carnal, starving, in the midst of bounty,
still hungry as a locust, ever ravenous, empty of fill,
Is forced by flesh to wait...
Imagine then there is
No heaven no hell
No earth no sky
No strife no succor
And imagine in all the time that follows these moments,
it is the same.
There is no division.
That is how much of me is left when you leave.
— Curt G ©2015
#poem #poetry #love #union @ellowrites @ellopoetry