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Feasts of Fire and Air Poetry by Virginia Stewart
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The Secret

A slow thick tide of honey crested and sank down,
skin melting,
current streaming,
wax dripping golden down your back,
glittering like blood in the lamplight shadows.

The rain dripped jewels in the gray twilight,
and washed clean memory's ashes.
But tomorrow is written with pens dipped in tide pools.

Fire swept up then and I could not speak to the moment,
breathing hard her kisses of amber,
and the spice that wraps her like a silken cloak.

How like to the Universe,
hot stars of burning rageful passion
in grand procession through the ages,
and trailing tears of ice and amazement.

Did we not defy the whole world,
to fulfill that ancient promise.

Did not the Universe laugh at us in our defiant tenderness,
that none should know but She and you,
and all of the host of ancestors crying rainbows to the blind.

Am I to smile a flickering secret smile
when your eyes meet mine,
or pass unnoticed in the dance?

Come then, and taste of soul deep yearning,
and of rivers of wine dark gentleness.
We will set ourselves adrift on the honeyed tide that none can master,
and who should want to try.

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