Haiku about Want

I’ve had Great Desire and Vast

Obsession; Haunting

Passion but not a Great Love

Golden Bear, Golden Locks, First Bear Awakens

Early Spring

Rain & Wind

hard ride, exhilarated,

He saw me.

I saw him like Adonis, Apollo,

a vision filled my eyes like

glacier wind had filled my lungs,

a sweetness after barren winter,

it cleared my head

.

I rested, wanting to talk to him

Beg him come to me

Wrap his legs around me and ride,

let me take you to a meadow

and show you what I mean

.

On I get, push around to leave, he gets out to say to me, “Ride safe, darling,” and a million other things I couldn’t hear

and could not have wanted more.

In surprise I blundered 'thank you' in three languages, but not one thing of what

I really wanted to him to know.

Go ahead, ask

I feel it like a heartbeat

A little nauseating

A little thrilling

I’m edgy

Excited.

I know you want this

you asked

you begged

a simple dream

Are you ready for this?

I know the way,

take my hand.

I can feel you thinking, wondering, wanting to ask.

Afraid.

Waiting.

I feel your anticipation

I feel your arms

Around me.

Yes, you want to hold me

You want it like you’ve never wanted anything.

Go ahead, it’s yours; ask.

My Mom is So Funny, page 10

I dreamed I washed my mother's feet.

She passed away about six weeks ago and in the dream she seemed so glad to have me do this for her - the feet were very dirty as if she'd been walking, walking a lot! Barefoot!

Enjoying herself, I could tell, she had the silliest grin on her face. She didn't dialogue with me, she just let me scrub the dirt off.

I realize, in a dream, I am everything in my dream. I am my mother, I am the dirt, I am the feet, and the grin and the water; I am also the person giving.

I have not found much information yet about the dream meaning of washing your mother's feet. I know the rite of foot washing has religious symbolism: a humble attitude by one participant to another; taking away grief, sadness, and sorrow; an act of giving comfort and love, as well as being able to accept the ministrations of another.

To complicate it, my mother was a quadriplegic who was not able to use her limbs or feel her extremities for several decades; washing her feet doesn't have the same effect on her that I would feel, for instance, if someone were to wash my feet - someone had to do everything for her every single day.

She always had to be in the position of accepting an act of comfort she could never return.

I have no idea what that must feel like; I cannot even begin to speculate.

I washed her everyday for two years, I know exactly what that felt like, but this was different - dirty feet felt like transition - of course, I assumed it was her transition because, of course, she is the one who has passed.

The transition affects me, as well, because I no longer have this major job of managing her body but all her other needs: the nurses, aides, social workers, volunteers, household, nutrition, and on and on and on, as well as maintaining my job. I had put most of the rest of my life on hold, choosing to help my parents through their end-of-life needs.

She wasn't a burden to me, surprisingly; for years and years I wouldn't do any of her care because I was afraid of getting sucked into a vortex of unending unmeetable needs. I took her on because I promised dad, and truthfully, a fully-needy quadriplegic is far too much trouble for a nursing home to manage. We tried, it didn't work.

So what about these dirty feet? Mud-encrusted happy feet on a woman who wasn't a walker the last time I saw her. What does that mean?

If I am my mother, then I've been out doing something I haven't done for ages, and I'm doing something quite fun, getting out there barefoot!! I do love dirt. It's the middle of winter - nearly five feet of snow in my yard - I couldn't see dirt today if I wanted to, much less run through the yard barefoot. Even better, trek through sand at the beach! Or get my feet washed and tickled, massaged and lotioned and kissed.

Actually, the dream may have been prescient.

A few nights ago, I did something I had never done, and I actually did get my feet rubbed and kissed and tickled. It was fun. I was open to it. I took what someone wanted to give me without thinking for a minute that I had to give something back.

I think I must have had the silliest grin on my face.

Not in My Head

I didn’t think about you

Not in my head

For once.

Between my legs thought about you

All day

Every fiber felt your fingers

Kinetic cunt

Felt every touch pinch slide push

Replayed deep into blastocyst of bone

Toes and legs and thighs and skin

Recalled every lick kiss suck tickle

Pressure built

Not in my head

It was felt again in that Velvet

Cusp where leg meets belly

Ass wants slap grasp hold lift

Into your face, teeth, tongue, voice

Letting desire eat me alive

Alive I was all day

Not in my head

Alive belly breasts shoulders

Nibbling my neck, notch, nerves

Lips to lips, manness, kisses

Sweet, moans, moaning, me

Awake to what you wakened

I was awake all day but

Not in my head,

And when I went to sleep

Late, still rocking, I felt your

Fist, at the why, like a

Promise.