Step Four

You kiss my shivering skin, and make me
Warm. First my toes, then slowly up my leg;
Your hands, stroking the bruises on my knee;
Your eyes are on fire. Please don’t make me beg:
My hips are already yours. You force this
Moan when you reach my waist; I breathe your name;
Your mouth pushes me into the abyss.
I am your candle, and you are my flame.
“You are a beautiful woman, inside
And out”. Your whispers fill this empty space
Within my heart. I held you as I tried
To memorize that look upon your face:
   “Perhaps some things are not as they appear—
   In my arms, you have nothing left to fear.”

by Jenn Slemmer

photo by Kadri

Storm Kestrel

Like a kestrel lost in a storm, enraged
By the wind that pushes me back towards home,
Failing strength in my tired wings, engaged
In a battle to rise above the foam
On my slate-grey seas. This tie binds me here,
And on a short rope I roam: let me fly
Away, and I’ll return when Autumn’s clear
Sky settles my wandering heart with a sigh.
Waves beat at my breast, and salt stings my eyes,
And the noose grows tighter around my chest:
Straining forward, my placid face belies
This sudden storm that’s given me my best
    Chance to escape this moral gravity
    And soar above my rain-swept dignity.

by Jenn Slemmer


Photo by Robert B