a foot in two worlds

 

on south terraced slopes

vineyards rose in awnings of foliage

feet lifted me up ten-foot ladders

 

through green nearer the divine

fingers easily pinched the dangling blue

thirsty skin touched every soft fruit of the earth

 

but not tin or plastic

heels digging into grapes it was love

stomping through the eve in granite vats

 

tannin tingling skin before bed

before blowing out the candle

the blood of christ on my lips then hers

black moss

 

 

 

my tongue eeled

through her arched toes,

 

            moist, unhurried,

            slick lips

glided on limber arc

 

suckled

stream of first pleasure.

 

hand-guided,

along the thigh

and into black moss,

my chestnut-smooth foot

disappeared into the wet

the hunt

1. predator

the famished coyote

circles my house

asleep i stir

puzzled by haunting dreams

coyote follows

my footprints

on snow

to her doorstep

my doorstep

to her

this thin january

his heart howls a song

on a melting snow drift.

the blue eyes

of his own trickery

led him astray

the hunt fails

cold jaw

hollow teeth

snapped on resilient bone

i stir,

rest my hand on her chest.

our heartbeats still mime.

2. winter

the winter is long

the hunt an old habit

the winter will return

the hunt is never done

the scent of blood

suspended in the air

magnetic pull

and push of moon

in a lover's mind

the last line

never written

©1998paulodacosta

©paulodacosta