Let Me Tell You
december 1997
Oh let me tell you
about the birds and the bees
and the flowers and the trees
and the moon up above
and a thing called
You and I
a Thing? Are we “a Thing”?
I ask, dare not speak it
Label it, frame it
Fearing I am wrong
Again
I don’t know, you say,
But we are no longer only
You and I.
Well if we are “a thing,” I reply.
Then I propose
It’s a good thing.
It’s a deal, you say.
We kiss on it.
Oh let me tell you
about the birds and the bees
and the flowers and the trees
and the moon up above
Like your eyes falling down upon me
Golden, glowing,
Signal of fullness and hunger
Half hidden, half crazed.
Half asleep, night pulled snug around us
I kiss your eyelids, closed crescents.
They open, beaming.
Oh let me tell you
about the birds and the bees
and the flowers and the trees
And all things turned green
And alive before me
Life sprouting out of the cracks and fissures
Like ivy, clinging and creeping
Like a rose, ridiculous and proud
Like a leaf, open and expectant
Like a hothouse, abundant.
Oh let me tell you
about the birds and the bees
And my feelings winged, swift
Pecking and stinging
Upon my brittle grey shell
In flocks and swarms
They come at me
I welcome this frenzy
I open my arms to their hunger
I spread my wings, wet, unfurling
And fall into you.
Oh let me tell you
about the birds and the bees
and the flowers and the trees
and the moon up above
Oh let me tell you
Let me tell you
About a thing
half hidden,
half crazed,
ridiculous and proud,
that pecks and stings
and sprouts and beams
and sings
And other things.
Oh let me tell you.