Night here, alone, makes me unfaithful
to the woman we both know:
easy to give my heart away
to a stranger
wandering the beach
of my innermost shore,
the crash of the ocean’s ivory keys
drowning the do-re-mi
that has played
me for years,
the air so loose and warm,
all the old clothes
must be pulled off,
my body shown
for what it is—
a sweat
of holy longing, faithful
only to what seems to be
last call for living
this other me.
One of several versions of another Mexico poem. Maybe I’ll post the others sometime and see if you like one over the other….
Lynne Burnett 
Yes, there is no holier longing than to be a “body shown for what it is,” that it might at last be seen and loved!
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Thank you so much, Stephanie!😘
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“faithful / only to what seems to be” works so well with the layers within the earlier stanzas.
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Thanks so much, Ken – that’s very helpful!🙏
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Would love to see the variations – hard to believe any would be more moving … but REPEATED moving would be fantastic!
This one really vibrates sensuality – mmmm!
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Oh Jazz, thanks so much! I’ll definitely post another variation – perhaps even more sensual than this!😘🙏
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