Tiny Breaths
Fire and ice undo me.
I am born again,
born again through the burning ice and biting flame.
Listlessly floating
cinder-like on lost cusps of wind
that multiply with every with every single with every single breath.
Spitfire grail and deep black coals—she walks among us,
relentless in her silence.
It hits me hardest.
She comes
bearing the gifts of her virtuous body
open to me to me to those who see
she comes and I come and we come and
she doesn't know what happened.
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Author's Note
Wanted to write a poem describing an orgasm.
Other stories by Robert James Russell
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"i am born through the burning ice and biting flame lackadaisically floating strawlike on lost cusps of wind that seem to multiply with every
with every single
with every single breath"
I like this a lot, particularly "lost cusps of wind". [You don't need "lackadaisically," by the way--stronger without, in my opinion.]
Thanks! I'm actually going to upload a newer version of the poem which I think you'll like even more...
I swear, you're writing great song lyrics!
Ha. If only I knew how to play guitar...