Originally posted 10/19/2008.

this morning
we were

archerfish
and bluebird,
cat
and swallowtail, 
monument
and fountain,
abstract
and concrete.

we were

marble, clay, steel, flame,
building up
and carving away;
brancusi
and calder,
rounding off,
grounding, then
suspending
and floating.

making love is nothing
if it is not sculpture: 

surface is paramount,
a glimpse of
the potentials within
to lead us on.
our hands swerving
and smoothing, gliding
up over the ribs,
varying pressure,
thumbs teasing forth the nipples.

here is where we bend
back, here is where we
create the arch of the neck,
where we
mold the open mouth — 
there is so much time
needed for each lip — 
so much care needed
to give the hips their crests, 
to choose
the ridge for each cheek.

but we are not stone and bronze,
made to remain still —
we move —

plastic now, animated now,
stillness swiftly swept up in frenetic once again —
again, picking up the tools,
seeking new forms, next revelations;
this time

cat and bluebird,
swallowtail and archerfish,
nevelson and rodin,

or, better —
nameless before the possibilities.

there is animal in me:
let’s carve in to find it. 
there is goddess in you:
let’s carve.
let’s find it.