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My lover is to me a cluster of henna blossoms
     from the vineyard of En Gedi.

Song of Songs 1:14 NIV

he is vulnerable 
   with me.
he is charming, handsome —

   his silver hair and bedroom eyes.
i press my nose
   into the featherbed of his chest —

     the mix of his scent with cologne
his arms encircle me
      embrace only me

the ripples of henna
       paint a vista
for my love and me —

       our song of songs
 blossoms
        we’ve left youth behind

embracing the divine.
     he knows me —
the cluster of our fingers

singularity, our intimate jokes
     and home sweet home.
after the sprig of coolness

      excites and weaves
into the dendrites and sinews
      of our life,

comes the wintergreen crest
of the ocean’s shiver,
      climatic and familiar

rock of our houseboat —
       survivor of tempests.
j’aime mon mari —

       love defies the language
and sound barrier, the dangerous
reefs. communication,

as our pressed together crowns
     on downy pillows,
speaks with its own lavender ink.

6/10/2019

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