love, lust, poetry, writing

Cutlery

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Whether we are fellow

Travellers to 

Or from

Dream or 

Nightmare

Imagine my

Arms

One that your head rests upon

The other draped around your 

Waist

You push back

Finding me ready

For you

My body responds

With warm purpose

You open like

Spring blooms

Sunrises watched with

Child-like awe

You know that

With me, 

I offer a certainty

A stoic acceptance

That energises

Rather than infuriates

I am Shiva

In the face of

Your Kali

You take me into you

Slow

Until

You cannot

Be slow

I match

Outrun your need

Your want

And wherever

You 

Go

You

Will find me waiting

For you

Not one piece

Of cutlery

But the whole

Set

Let me

Feed you

From

Each 

Piece

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