Hummingbird painting by Rocket Worley, photographed by Tremaine L. Loadholt

I am waiting on a
storm that only tempts me
with its pressure–
stalling on its landing.
I see the pearls of your eyes
glean in the sunlight,
your hummingbird love covers
me, draping me in buzzing
wings, my guardian angel,
ready to defeat the eye.

every hurricane season, I feel you
caress my untouched breasts,
beasts of past lives
saunter in, cackling at my
distorted view of us.
I am Moses rising,
my staff thrown into
the pathway of raging water,
splitting it in two.
it is there, in the midst
of Biblical anecdotes and parables
where I find a sanctified love,
one that harbors the weight
of your trembling hands.

I want more of you.
I need more of you.
you stand at the brink
of falling, my heart as a jewel
tied to your back.
you carry…

Today, I imagined
That someone came up the steps
to the orange door
To my bright yellow bungalow.
He was following behind me,
And I opened the door,
I turned to smile at him
And took his hand
And led him inside.

I’m not telling any more about that,
(She says, with a wink and a smile).

But it was nice.
It was fresh,
And sweet,
And loving
And fun.

There were no games.
There was no pain.
There was steamy breath
In the air conditioned room.
The palm fronds swept against the porch
And a tropical wind blew across the deck.

I didn’t think about my past.
I didn’t think about my future.
I was happy
In the moment
With this man who was no longer
A stranger to me.

He’s waiting for me there.
He may not know it, yet,
But sure enough,
He’ll tell me that he…