missing truths
She can’t even bear this pain she carries in her lips; it’s like a 15 car pile-up, the trauma and chaos ripping through each second, while everything else not contained in the accident continues to move forward, unaffected. Her heart needs constant CPR, it needs attended by the most skilled doctors. She must be pieced together with sutures composed of light and his scent; this sinewy fusion is all that will keep her whole. In her cavernous chest, she quietly rages for him. Her longing sends a message directly to her cunt and she floods and counts the hours and conjures his taste.
When they are apart, he will send her the words, ‘I am missing you like Galileo did his truth.’
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image & words © jennifer summer | 2013
Awaiting the Word Weaver
and he waits, and he waits
Hey you,
gender nectar
Crystalline from the vine
You know you’ll drink her
cuore
He says, “Your heart beats and I live because of it.”
Her heart, the one that was all over the place, all the time, the heart that climbed a mountain and then funneled back down to the ground again, irrevocably and intoxicatingly changed, the heart that jumped from her body and pirouetted on the edge of a wing that cut through the clouds. Nothing that comes from her from this point on will be the same as it was before.
He tells her, “Your heart is of infinite capacity and yet I will fill it because my desire knows no limit. It recognizes no rule, man made or determined by Gods.”
She turns over her hand and stares into an endless pool of reflective ocean, and she finds herself convinced.
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image & words © jennifer summer | 2013
seeker of love
“Love is from the infinite, and will remain until eternity. The seeker of love escapes the chains of birth and death. Tomorrow, when resurrection comes, the heart that is not in love will fail the test.” – Rumi.