Resistance is Key

The dark liquid
Trickles a shallow thread
Down the back of my throat.
I am a man parched
Long without the cool draught
So now welcomed.

I am tempted to gulp the refreshment
In an effort to satisfy my thirst
To quench the need.

But resistance is key.

Better to
Enjoy the burn
Of slow satisfaction.

Were you here
My flesh would cry
For fulfillment.

How I would battle
Not to take you
In one long pull
Absorbing you into my very skin.

I fear I would drink you to the full
And there would be nothing of you
Remaining.

No, darling.
Resistance is key.

Better to sip your nectar
Take your sweetness
Slowly
Like a brook
Not a river
Like a shower
Not a storm.

But that is easy to say
In this drought.

Were you in my arms
I know what I would do.

I would greedily draw your love
Like a man dying
For the want of you.

But you are not here.

I guess
For you, too
Resistance is key.

On the Leeward Side

I recall how sweetly
You’d tuck your head
Against the hollow of my throat
Push like you wanted inside.
You would retreat into my heart
Lock the door
Against all outside
And there release your pressures.

You’d remain the longest
And return to the world
With reluctance.

My heart is yours still.

I would caress you
Hold you as firmly as
A sailor holds the wheel
Against the surging storm
Your long auburn hair
Spilling over my arms
Like decks awash
In a shimmering crest.

I drank the intoxication
Of your scent
Felt your heartbeat
Against my chest
The thrumming of your engine.

I closed my eyes
And begged God you’d stay.

But you did not.

So I wonder
Who holds you now
Comforts you
Assures you
There will always be a place
A home in the heart
A harbor against the storm.

Storms come.
They blow unexpectedly
And we gallantly battle the inevitable.

But there’s room for you
Protection too
A cove
On the leeward side
Of the storm.

The Long Cold Tumble

At five thousand feet
The pilot cut the engine
And pushed the little Cessna
Onto its starboard wing.

We fell into a sweeping spin.

Farms
Fields and freeways
Rushed steadily
Toward our fragile little cockpit.

As our propeller windmilled
My heart was pounding
With the panic
Of a rabbit at the maw of a wolf.

The pilot laughed.

At the last possible moment
The engine sputtered and caught.
We clutched air
Like a mountain climber
Grabbing shale.

I could not wait to land
Anticipating the joy
Of shoving my fist
Through the pilot’s teeth.

But I did not.

I thanked him for the thrill
And waited until
I was alone
Before throwing up.

I’ve learned to defer fear
Shoving the acidic panic
Into my gut
Buying time
Acting on the moment
Before me.

There'll be time later to shiver
Plenty of time to quiver.

Feel the long
Cold tumble from the sky.

Learn that death is easy.
Dying is hard.