My Diamonds and Rust Lover
These uncountable years later,
he calls and I'm trying to remember
before time turned so brittle,
when the sky wasn't so easily bruised
by thunderstorms, when dogs didn't
stand on their haunches and howl
near my window, come midnight.
I'd locked our memories
into that closet of dead days,
barred tight the door,
tossed the key, but
his call reminds me our passion
once was a wild thing,
a tree flattening hurricane,
an earthquake leaving fault lines
leading from heart down to groin,
now splitting wide to his voice.
Pris Campbell
©2006
Published in Empowerment4Women June2008
Art: Jackson by Julia Cameron
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