the compass is in my pocket and a lover is in my head

I am the scorning
of my shaven head
of  all
of the lightening
strike disaster that
I recompense
for my own sin self.

The walk upon the water
swallows me whole by what is holy.
And I am consumed by the beauty
of  waves,  wind,                                 and all that is him.
I sink, I know,
again, to a place
where I will need
what is left of all
of Your grace.

But right now
I want
a simple sweet sensual
flesh of flesh,                                           a complex  enrapture                          of spirit to spirit ,
I need to feel the lines
of this  writer’s hand
living the curves
of who I am.

J. Ann.

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One thought on “the compass is in my pocket and a lover is in my head

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