I trace the fine pores of familiarity in your dusky hazel skin, and feel security in something about the way your veins flow across your muscles.
Strong, hardened hands delicate enough to capture and create; images, ideas, me. Big, warm palms brave enough to keep a woman like me in balance.
Dark eyes like chocolate earth, coveted behind delicious lashes, blinking with thick flashes of wisdom far beyond my own. You possess the perfect symmetry between science and art.
by nicola odemann
Melaleuca Lagoon - Port Davey.
Now this particular girl
During a ceremonious april walk
With her latest suitor
Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck
By the birds’ irregular babel
And the leaves’ litter.
By this tumult afflicted, she
Observed her lover’s gestures unbalance the air,
His gait stray uneven
Through a rank wilderness of fern and flower;
She judged petals in disarray,
The whole season, sloven.
How she longed for winter then! — Scrupulously austere in its order
Of white and black
Ice and rock; each sentiment within border,
And heart’s frosty discipline
Exact as a snowflake.
But here — a burgeoning
Unruly enough to pitch her five queenly wits
Into vulgar motley —
A treason not to be borne; let idiots
Reel giddy in bedlam spring:
She withdrew neatly.
And round her house she set
Such a barricade of barb and check Against mutinous weather
As no mere insurgent man could hope to break
With curse, fist, threat
Or love, either.
I knew then, that my life was set, and that I would forever exist as a mirage of you; displaced, distant.