Koni’s Song

by Al Preciado

I claim no ownership over the country hood of women

Save one

This new terrain of she. Her unfolding, fresh continent

of possibilities, land I want to discover with floods of wanting

overwhelming her flowers, her apricot orchards, her Midwest cornfields

She is not a dream like so many others, but blood, bones

Her chemical soul captivates, compels

I am an immigrant standing cautious, pensive outside the walls

encircling the bright city of her heart At the border, her smiles flicker

like streetlights, beckoning, bending, pushing me down beaten path

of redemption , salvation, down the freeways that grid California, over

the golden hills, the white windmills rotating the velvet breeze calling

like her touch, her honey caress

I always believed that a new love would hammer me like an

earthquake Crash into me a tidal wave, spin me like a flock of seagulls

shaped like a tornado, or burn me like the late afternoon torch of

the Mojave sun

But it enters the new territory of us on padded feet

A mouse whispering past a cat

Ant creeping across the pillow

Or the Tule fog rolling across the Central Valley sublime

This new nation of she enters not like a jackhammer

But like a soft kiss on the neck in the middle of the shade on

an island of bliss, her kisses falling like Jacaranda blossoms

and her eyes a tangerine sunset of warmth

Eos: The Creative Context