One deep breath – Cary Briel

Posted on Jun 5, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

One deep breath
at times when your knees
speak volumes
that I cannot hear in your words,
and your eyes cannot say
my name.

One soft kiss
when I’m not expecting it,
and am reminded
of why you’re my best friend,
and yet not my friend

You’ve invaded my world,
and I cannot breathe and not
think of you.
My work is not work anymore,
my play not play.
I am overthrown in my place.

Smitten, taken,
eaten up and swallowed whole.
I ferment in the belly
while I wait for a sign,
longing for the stir
of the sun.

Taut – Cary Briel

Posted on May 24, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

In a field, I see you and I lying taut in the sunlight, stretched so perfectly that no finger or toe is even slightly bent. There are no ropes, no restraints, so I tell the me beside you, “ask.” And I see me turn to you and ask. In your eyes, I see it. I can’t help myself, I can’t. I’ve understood.

At night, the moon lights your flesh so I could swear I’m not stretched anymore. I stand and run around you, still understanding your taut predicament. But I’m free, and you’re rooted like a tree, unmovable. I know this, but still run free. I’ll get to it eventually.

Your feet are peas – Cary Briel

Posted on Apr 26, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

A waif, an angel.
Run ’round our garden
calling til I wake.
I’ll shed my shame,
my Calvin Kleins.
Let’s be shameful
for the kids’ sake.
You sweat.
Your hands,
your lips,
your smell.
Sticky girl,
I’ll never tell.
Then flash it back,
and feign,
crash flesh and wet
into me again—
crash sin.
Your feet are peas,
my hands reveal you—
make a meal of you.

Your heel – Cary Briel

Posted on Apr 18, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

shelves, wire-type,
I remember.
White Swan marks
without a feather.

I can’t describe
the blissful terror,
left of pencils,
Post-Its, right—
you pressed tight.

I’ve known of late,

with a look.
fifteen pencils

Your heel
has lifted,
stocking running,
fifteen times,
I memorized.

The jogger – Cary Briel

Posted on Apr 16, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

Heavy breath,
Spandex, Nike—
pass me in
your labors.
You nod and smile.
I almost feel
your clammy hands.

Your toes
touch mine,
hot and sweaty.
Breasts confined.
Your smell
punishes me.
I’ve guessed your name
a hundred times,

and how you’d feel
atop me.
Sweat runs down
your neck to mine,
your navel
Golden hair falls, wildly,
in your eyes.

Your knees – Cary Briel

Posted on Apr 9, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

Your knees,
call me from your chair.
Heaven’s hinge—
I make them
strangers to each other.
Shallow breaths
in sweaty palms—
They feel cool
in hands.
I’m dizzy,
I smell Spring.
With your knees
I foretell my future.
I get lost
inside you
so I almost
I smell Spring.

You are a tree – Cary Briel

Posted on Apr 4, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

Trees grow up between your toes,
this one oak,
that one elm.
The maple winds your curves.
I am it.
Oak I was til you thirsted.
So you tapped me and drank
and you were filled.
Trees shade your comely proportions,
your newborn skin.
You are a tree in my garden, amidst
the fairest, a flower,
tall and slender,
with vivid hues
and perfect petals.
You are my bride
and I am not alone anymore.

Penciled – Cary Briel

Posted on Mar 26, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

I’ve penciled you,
surely I,
a thousand times,
throughout the canvas of
my thoughts—
surveyed oft’,
as land will be,
your bewitching form.

I’ve loved – Cary Briel

Posted on Mar 22, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

Your fingers, digits, angels made.
I touch you,
breathe you in.
I’ve loved your hips so many days,
traced your neck,
I cannot say.
How many times I’ve kissed your toes,
your perfect calves,
your knees.
I run my fingers up your thighs.
You bite your lip,
it bleeds.

Come back – Cary Briel

Posted on Mar 16, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

Your earth imparts
to my bare feet, your sea
to my fair shore,
a familiarity,
a cottage dream,
a door.
Oh Beloved,
ten thousand miles
you flew, you flew away.
Don’t you miss
my pretty knees?
Come back, come back and stay.