Come with me…

Walking through whispering willows, along lonely walkways, beside paint-chipped wrought iron fences, I feel the pull of the unknown, the needed, the not-yet-named. The wind pushes and my desire pulls and the willows scratch my face.

I can feel your presence a half step behind as the dusk begins to blanket us with soft-focused light. The yellow willows create an impression of springtime, of noon sun, but really they are marking the approach of the darkest time of the year. Contradictions envelop us but we are not confounded. We revel in the ambiguity.

Lie with me in the grass as darkness falls, willow branches scoring the skin on your back while the chill of the breeze soothes your scratches. My body warms you from below as your warmth seeps through me and into the ground.

Move with me, our bodies undulating like the waves of wind rustling the willows. Let them whip us, faster, harder, urging us to move through each other. I want to claw my way through your body and emerge on the other side. I want to draw you through me as if I were a sieve.

Steadily, relentlessly, like the whipping of the willow branches against your back, along my cheek, we ride the crest of our desire, our need, until, exhausted, we name it: release.

Together, now, for a moment, we are free.

Photo by Molly

~ by Molly Montrevoir on January 23, 2007.