do you dream of horses, my gentle Centaur?

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cotton on bones
bones on cotton
on a bed of fresh fern green
i watch you sleep.
sleeping arms,
long and slender
like strips of willow rest
by either side.
the head is tilted towards me
your mind, a whip,
lies coiled and contained;
folded up, locked inside
the sleeping skull;
the mind, tamed and tempered
only fleeting, in dreams
‘are you close, or
are you far away, my love?’
i impart my thoughts
upon you
with a temporal kiss.
you open your eyes
and gaze at me
eyes, turquoise and back-lit.
you are still asleep.
forehead to forehead
we talk.
limbs extended, arms entwined
burgeoning
for a kiss.
you move to untangle
restless, like a mustang,
with kicking feet.
‘do you dream of horses, my gentle Centaur?’
i kiss the flank
and watch you roll
in cotton crisp, and tangled.
you face the sea breeze
lingering in the open window
fingering your spine,
a crustacean fossil,
i have known you forever.
you have always been there
like bedrock.
i touch the curve
with endless fascination.
my fingers trace down
like lazy waves lap
a sweeping shore.
your body, my favourite beach.
i nuzzle in.
i am the Big Spoon.
i bury my face
in the fragrance of your hair,
softly tumbling down your back,
silken threads unfurled
flaxen and spun with thyme.
i plant another kiss
upon the nape
and drape
myself around you.
i crave you but i leave you
sleep…
i slip my hand inside
yours and feel your fingers curl
around, protect,
held close to heart.
beating heart.
i nestle my head
where your wings once were
and slide
my ploughing, furloughing hand
across the hip,
boned and keen,
skin taut as snare.
my hand between thighs
i chase your breath
the rev of a sigh
fuels, ignites
the horsepower of the sex.
glorious.
the mind sleeps
the body very much awake.
‘well, hello…’
i promise.
i chase your breath
the pushes and the pulls
in and out
like a summer tide.
i lie still
upon my beach
and listen.
i listen, hard.
the cocoon is silent
but for the gentle machinations
of our syncopated breathing.
‘oh my love, my heart’
my heart…
when near you
she gathers pace,
begins to race
like pony on beach,
galloping.
i nestle in close
and plant five tiny kisses
and hope that they grow.
on golden shoulder.
‘oh love,
you are the cool side of the pillow…
you are that tall glass of water
by my bed’
this bed, a craft, a portal
this bed.
this bedrock.
this familiarity.
you are family
– ancient and familiar.
feels like i have known you
before forever.
between these ancient bones and whispers of mind
there are words and songs
and spates of twin behaviour.
we think the same, we wear each others clothes.
we came from the same old furnace of the same old dying star.
we are on vacation here.
‘pilgrims!’ says Juliet.
it is true
we don’t belong here,
but we belong together.
and this…
this…
here…
in this quiet time
is when i really see you.
when my mind drinks in all that you are
and is left swimming, intoxicated
in the softness of your gentle love.
when my heart soaks up spillage,
of spit, sweat and semen,
like a sponge,
and i am left
teeming with fluid, emotion.
overwhelmed,
so much water inside.
words elude me
but happy tears prick my eyes.
all i can do,
until you awake,
is silence my heart
and wait for those eyes.
i close my eyes
and nestle into your back.
i listen
to the breath –
a sound i cannot not hear.
the day that tide stops
is the day
i pack up and go home.

(c) Kat McDonald 2014

for my gentle Centaur, my lover and fellow writer/weirdo…
http://robertmonkey.wordpress.com/

image (c) Kat McDonald Photography 2013

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8 thoughts on “do you dream of horses, my gentle Centaur?

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