Beltane

I will enter my lover’s soul

through the caverns of her eyes,

deep pools of blackness, gazing inward ---

this is the precipice and the lip of the abyss,

           the nothing

(can I face that darkness, that black hole,

bermuda triangle changing matter

            and consciousness?)

I drank blood at her throat,

In trust, she offered her throat to me.

I could not stop kissing her.

Sacred Mother –

weaned on her milk, I drank her blood.

She has always given me life.

My fingers ache to touch her skin,

this long life lived within the aura

of her breath.

Even the air must quiver, taut between us,

like the string of a drawn bow –

o lady!

where will the arrow fall?