Tom Ewing: A meal is spread out over time

A meal is spread out over time

©2007 Tom Ewing

A meal is spread out over time,
  Long times between and beyond
  Weeks and many phases of the moon
  and neither of us
  Is intimate for sure,
  Each path tastes, in its own, the scent of
  Both savory and sweet, un-tempered and sublime
  She said to me,
  “I am scared, repulsed, attracted, and intrigued all at the same time”
  As though they were courses on our table
  Each one compared each one combined
  for our lives adjournment
  Scared:
  she said to me:
  I am nothing,
  and dead
  and wicked
  and desolate
  empty
  silent
  my eyes are silent
  my lips see nothing
  ears taste the wind
  touch is deafening
  I am sad
  and scared of you,
  and me.
  Driving in the moonless black
  faster than fearing comfort
  painfully twisting
  wicked coastal road
  no escape or sight to climb,
  precipice lane—“can’t see anything”
  big truck with horrible lights almost
  touching her,
  pushing from behind
  now deer crossing next 12 miles
  tires screeching
  for the dark vista,
  and swirling cliffs going down
  no sadness or vision
  bad beauty
  or time.
  Repulsed:
  He hurts me with his words, and the
  Lousy weight of his damned
  as He calls them, “feelings”
  He calls them “truth” but if that’s truth, I don’t want to hear his truth.
  (they’re lies, all of them—
  the ones that say I'm all light,
  and all right
  and giving the flow
  to the water of being).
  who gives him the damned right to
  stand on my portal,
  my grave,
  and preach of love?
  He doesn't know me.
  (I don’t know me.)
  Attracted:
  He causes my heart to skip beats
  Painful breast
  Like a cheating of our former death
  In his hands.
  Touching him as more than
  Just one more
  Of When I can’t say no.
  I can, and say no to him,
  but not sure I want to,
  But feel I must.
  Intrigued:
  She says silently to herself.
  The yielding finds me in the decisive place The above and below ahead of my time
  Like ancient lives that unfolds By the pulled trigger of a scent
  Or With the brightest stars A twinkle Or pattern
  of what I think to knows is Right.
  Or dense clouds offering no cleansing rain Where strength is central to my success
  Feeling strong and weak—a strength
  Of the hiding small animal.
  Yet, there must be a kernel of
  Truth to what he says,
  A hope
  And caring for me
  I can't want, but never have known.
  A book never opened, unsowed, a heavy
  Novel he faithfully describes
  In ways I don’t realize
  Nor understand,
  But want to hear.
  Sometimes I secretly want to be held.
  But, I’m afraid.
  Question:
  She said to me,
  What would you have me do? I don't know what to say.
  He says out loud,
  your honesty only extends to your level of silence
  in a place most quiet where gurgles of healing waters
  caresses your head and hands, giving us quiet
  to release our personal attractions in our own fears, and, I say,
  Share yourself completely with me,
  and I’ll share myself completely with you,
  If only for a time.
  don’t say no, just yet. there is still time.
  Taking her hand in mine
  Both cool and wet to the touch
  Trembling,
  Switch it off now,
  Eyes casting down quickly,
  As though following a spill
  Of her heat.

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