100 Words of Innocence - Knowing of Truths
Before we meet, before the first kiss is gifted, before I smell the scent of your neck, before your hand brushes a bare bit of my skin, before the space between us is closed, there is innocence.
I know nothing of you before these moments…no more than a stranger can know, no more than the truths you try to tell me. These truths are not real truths, they are only reflections of truths. Real truths are in the knowing of skin and what our eyes say to each other during passion or anger or in the soft light of morning
(The image is a woodcarving by Jean-Claude Gaugy: http://www.weinstein.com/gaugy/Innocence.jpg)
2 comments:
we made our skin let go its dialectical rigor;
unwrapped we became neither one nor other,
but an afternoon in bed
or in a hammock,
the languid cradling of sun and earth
or a place that rocks lazily,
forgets itself and goes to sleep.
we, the mysterious conjunction
of verbena passing from the not-there to
the not-here, were pinioned by nothing at all,
became the is and the when of our am and our since;
and for a while we it was granted us to be
nothing at all, the well of gratitude,
until the cat reminded us
that it wanted to be fed.
Dear dour, thank you. That was beautiful.
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