“And Don’t Think I Won’t Be Waiting”: Love poems by Audre Lorde Audre Lorde (1934 – 1992) “Pirouette” . I saw your hands on my lips like blind needles blunted from sewing up stone and where are you from you said your hands reading over my lips for some road through uncertain night for your feet to examine home where are you from you said your hands on my lips like thunder promising rain . a land where all lovers are mute. . And why are you weeping you said your hands in my doorway like rainbows following rain why are you weeping? . I am come home. . (1968, revised 1976) . . . “Bridge through My Window” . In curve scooped out and necklaced with light burst pearls stream down my out-stretched arms to earth. Oh bridge my sister bless me before I sleep the wild air is lengthening and I am tried beyond strength or bearing over water. . Love, we are both shorelines a left country where time suffices and the right land where pearls roll into earth and spring up day. joined, our bodies have passage into one without merging as this slim necklace is anchored into night. . And while the we conspires to make secret its two eyes we search the other shore for some crossing home. . (1968, revised 1976) . . . “Conversations in Crisis” . I speak to you as a friend speaks or a true lover not out of friendship nor love but for a clear meeting of self upon self in sight of our hearth but without fire. . I cherish your words that ring like late summer thunders to sing without octave and fade, having spoken the season. But I hear the false heat of this voice as it dries up the sides of your words coaxing melodies from your tongue and this curled music is treason. . Must I die in your fever – or, as the flames wax, take cover in your heart’s culverts crouched like a stranger under the scorched leaves of your other burnt loves until the storm passes over? . (1970, revised 1976) . . . “Recreation” . Coming together it is easier to work after our bodies meet paper and pen neither care nor profit whether we write or not but as your body moves under my hands charged and waiting we cut the leash you create me against your thighs hilly with images moving through our word countries my body writes into your flesh the poem you make of me. . Touching you I catch midnight as moon fires set in my throat I love you flesh into blossom I made you and take you made into me. . (1978) . . . “And Don’t Think I Won’t Be Waiting” . I am supposed to say it doesn’t matter look me up some time when you’re in my neighbourhood needing a drink or some books good talk a quick dip before lunch – but I never was one for losing what I couldn’t afford from the beginning your richness made my heart burn like a roman candle. . Now I don’t mind your hand on my face like fire like a slap turned inside out quick as a caress but I’m warning you this time you will not slip away under a covering cloud of my tears. . (1974)
Posted on: Sun, 23 Jun 2013 17:23:15 +0000
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