Saturday, March 12, 2011

This




Is alive in the forked body, an anchor between the legs, irresistible magnetism.

Is sweet in a hungry mouth, wet in an angry kiss, tender against the lips.

Is like gravity.

Is all the flowers in Scotland blooming at once, from the pretty feathered catkin to the dense, wicked thistle.

Is bulldozing through conversation, laughter, misunderstandings, tearing through words like so much wet newspaper.

Is felling us. Pinned and skewered, we scream merry hell. The huntsmen, deer, hounds and dogs all tumbling, howling, fighting and biting - taut, intent, obsessed, devouring scent, inhaling bodies, dismembering each other bone by bone.

Is enough to fill and refill my glass, to sip and swallow and taste the long finish.

Is enough to shake me. Leave me undone, naked in soft, fresh air. Make me sob without tears.  

Is a glorious, blessed, joyful fuck, hallelujah, the first of Spring.

8 comments:

Anne Tourney said...

"This" is stunning. What way to begin the morning!

Jo said...

Here here. Beautiful, Nikki.

Justine Elyot said...

This is beautiful writing.

Shanna Germain said...

Love both of your latest pieces. Poetry.

Nikki Magennis said...

Thanks very much, everyone!

Madeline Moore said...

A beautiful rite of Spring.
A beautiful write.
xoxo Mad

Erobintica said...

Is wonderful!

Emerald said...

Gorgeous, Nikki.