A Matching Poem to The Iron Ring

The Gold Ring

I first felt the warmth of a craftsman's hand
a plain gold circlet, a plain gold band.
Then clasping the warmth on the hand of a King.
The jeweller's gift, a coronation ring.

For twenty years his hand I graced,
and then his son's, who took his place,
then the neck of his grandson's bride.
Wed for power, wed for pride.

She wore me on a chain of hair.
I was greater than her hand could bear,
then passed to the finger of her son,
seen the wars and empires won.

Now I lie warm 'gainst a feathered breast
clasping a bone, in a corby's nest.

87/11/21

A poem from The Love Machine

The Iron Ring

Horseshoe nail, curled in a band
made for the miller's daughter's hand.
She wed the blacksmith's eldest boy,
short years to live in wedded joy.

The King's war came and cut them down
In fields I lay, specked rusty brown.
Until a child playing there
spied me, took me, found me fair.

She cleansed me, kept me with her toys
till she chose a lover from the boys.
Shining, from her son's hand I slide
onto the finger of his bride.

Dark metal band of work and earth
remember fire, that gave me birth.

87/11/21

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One of the few rhymed poems I've written. Part of a set.

The SDS

I'm watching the Siamese Demoliton Squad at work {the three siames kittens I just aquired} and I believe it is for the privilege of having miniature tigers in the house that we put up with the random destruction.

Cats do not care. Things go smash in the night. These three are still looking for the twelve foot tall Christmas cat toy that got dismantled and schlepped out last week. Dogs feel guilty because they have the idea of ownership [my bone, my bed] while a cat owns it all and doesn't care to keep it.

When they're older they aren't so destructive. It's almost a more benign kind of breakage rather than whirling chaos in action.

What's the most fun is watching the look on the face of the Doberman cross when an eight pound kitten claims him as a prize. The dog's very confused by it.

Edge My Skin With Silver

Edge my skin with silver
touch satin lips
to my trembling
feathersoft touch
on face and ears and breast.

I bare my throat to your fire
warm pulse felt between
my legs.

Come
edge my skin with shivers
and silver.

86/08/21

A Poem from Flowers and Vice

What is all this Believing Crap?

The other day
the Mer came up
and sunned themselves
on Baja sand.

People came
and said 'Neat trick!
Where are the wires?"
and went away.

A Unicorn
stepped from the wood.
Raindrop trembling
on his mane.

Farmer shot him.
"Stupid horse,
broke down ma fences!"

And then...

The Dragon came.

Funny.

People learned
to believe.

Real quick.

85/09/06