Familiar Hands.

Your hands

want to hold her.

Rid her

of grief.

I need to be held.

I’m an infant, only.

A woman, lonely.

But your hands.


split from

your heart.

Left you gripping.

I wish to be held

by no hold

at all.

Please let me fall.

Straight through her grief

into the heartbeat

of familiar hands.

. _ . _ . _ .

(photo credit :: Jane Utochkina)

In stillness, together.

Can you hear me?

My quiet hymn.

How I long

to sing you

her silence.

But desire, distorts.

Dread of imperceptibility, contorts.

My souls song

sped up.

Forced words

fill a space


stay empty.

Let go, I must.

Let go, I trust.

To hear her is enough.

To have you hear her too?

Proves we exist

in stillness,


Inaudible to most

but not each other.

. _ . _ . _ .

(photo credit :: Glen Carrie)

A woman.

You look at me

and see

a woman.

Why can’t I see her?

What courage 

your eyes ask.

To soften

the space

between my lungs,

between my legs.

A body bracing

against pain.

Or is it pleasure?

Or are they the same?

What courage

your eyes ask.

To open to her,

meet myself

& greet you.

Your turn for bravery.

Won’t you let us,

love you?

How sweet the sound.





Flinging daggers.

Once cast, come back.

Murder, suicide

is no way to live.

It’s living without her.

She doesn’t say

“rid yourself of fury.”

She says

“I’ll hold you”

while fury passes.

Daggers drop

as the unlistenable

is listened to.





How sweet the sound.

. _ . _ . _ .

(photo credit :: Anastasiia Malai)

Warm inside.

My desire

to touch

and be touched



my need to

self-fulfill, self-detest.

I’m here

to love your body,

from mine.

To embrace you

with the warmth

inside of me.

I am warm


I am warm


At long last

I’ve remembered,

I am warm inside.

. _ . _ . _ .

(photo credit :: Dmirty Fisenko)

Am I her?

She won’t let me rest.

Not until she reaches you.

Until her words

pour out

my lips

my breasts

my heart

my hips.

They’re not my words.

They’re hers.

She’s relentless.



She’s breaking me apart

to get to you.

She wants us to be together.

I do too.

Am I her?

. _ . _ . _ .

(photo credit :: Rostyslav Savchyn)

No one shall bleed.

I held my breath.

Halted feeling.

Stopped moving.

All for you.

I’m older now.

No longer

so small

or so in need of love.

I know what my inhale does.

My exhale too.

My feelings destroy worlds.

My movement creates them.

I promise I won’t hurt you.

I promise to destroy with precision and create with care.

No one shall bleed.

Trust me.

Feel me.

Move with me.

I’m older now.

No longer

so small

but admittedly,

still so in need of love.

. _ . _ . _ .

(photo credit :: Anna Meshkov)

Burning whole.

Draw up the Earth, Kate.

Let her cool your heart.

Too much love without the container of your body

will destroy you.

The heat alone

will kill you.

Your burning heart

is seismic grief.

Seismic love, lost.

The only way to live with a heart-on-fire

is to let go

into another.

The Earth, Kate.

“Me, Kate.”

“Draw me up.”

Burning hole to burning whole.

. _ . _ . _ .

(photo credit :: Casey Horner)

Your fantasy.

I wanted to be your fantasy.

To turn you on.

Make you long for me.

But fantasies aren’t real, you see.

And I am very real,

you see.

So I let you penetrate what’s here.

Pierce holes in my fanatical facade.

And I discover your real longing

is for my depth.

A depth you don’t yet know exists in you.

A depth I don’t fully know exists in me.

Until I let you come inside.

Come closer.

Come into me.

You see?

Ah, yes, you sea.

. _ . _ . _ .

(photo credit :: Linda Xu)