private bestiary

my pretty one   like a fish in your pond
I’m now your pet  your plaything
you give me your incomparable love
your uncommon beauty    for me they are
air   water   food   warmth   everything I need
– let’s fetch one more bestial metaphor –
mourning doves are we  female and male
you are my hen   your cock am I
being birds  let’s fly away
from this earth to the highest heaven
listen now:  the sounds of delight
breaking the chains of sorrow
listen:  hearts are melding
in the workshop of love

*    *   *

© Gregory V Driscoll  2014

If my soul were a well

If my soul were a well, you could drink deeply.
Thirst? But a memory.
If my flesh were food, you could savor and feast.
Hunger? Only a wraith.
And all your other needs?  Fulfilled.
But my spirit is but spirit;
my flesh, only flesh. Yet surely
enough.  Yes, love, surely enough!

*      *      *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2011