love to the blood and bone
he loves the very heart of her
the blood the bone the womb
and every part of her.
scrapes passion from her skin like fishes scales
his fingers close around the very core of her.
the hot iron smell
the taste of salt
as teeth clash -
love by default.
love that doesn’t care for yesterday
or for tomorrow.
for names, for histories,
for anything but now.
fear, sorrow,
joy -
what can they be?
for all is him
and all is she.
scar tissue softens
and tears scorch the sheets
and pain and laughter mix
‘fore death defeats.
Isobel
Fri 25th Jun 2010 18:01
It's Klimt, Cynthia. I have his Water Serpents over my fireplace - but I've hung it sideways - it's in browns, beiges and golds so goes perfectly with modern decor. I think his Mother and Child picture is lovely too - though some of his work is getting so popular that it's losing its edge for me.
I think the picture fits the poem well. Love that defies everything - its passion all the more heightened by the inevitablility of death. I like the urgency in it.