Herself as Landscape 1


Dusk. A line of tall pines.
Blue mist horizon.
Impression of a stark hill.
The feel of wanting
to merge two into one:
the viewer into the viewed.

She is soul-gatherer.
Where does she take him?
Or is he taking her? To the lake.
To the dark, wooded lake.
He presses his thumb
in the most sacred space.
Encircles her pleasure;
brings her to his merciful lips.
She cries out and loves him more.
Loves him to the brink of all desire.
She is shadow. She is glory all at once.
She is light embodied and then,
diminishes into glowing dusk again.
She controls the image.
She controls her body.

She places the image
at the font of the world
where holy is only seen
by unveiled eyes.

Bless them.
Bless them. Bless them.

©2016 Clare L. Martin