Thursday, June 21, 2012

Lux(uria) Aeterna

Transcendence, Susan Seddon Boulet

For a finite one
who covets the infinite,
the drunkenness of

i awaken in the dead of night
to two hands
scanning my star-latticed body

small palms gliding
three inches from
silver-dappled flesh

and while asking myself
just what . . .
i recognize that 

am craving my touch

my hands
my fingers


seeking new edens
in which to dwell

rendering the body of my body
and mottled with self-love

am loving me

feeling the flush of my impatient caress
here . . . and here
and . . . h     e                r                                 e

hearing my head’s voice wonder
is it a dream?

hearing my own voice whisper

while the sun enters stealthily this night
this temple through a secret door
like an unexpected disciple
like an eternal light

bathing me with golden nectar
anointing with lip . . . and lash . . .
and ego . . . the eyelets of my flesh
and licking me dry with adoration.