Saturday, February 05, 2005

Candlelight

Candlelight,
a flicker of flame,
falls on the chessboard
that you made of paper and colored ink--
black slashes and yellow swirls
alternate in rows of eight.
Wooden soldiers cast dancing shadows
moving as if to circus music
in this, their dance of life and death.

Candlelight falls on your hand
as you reach to make your move
and advance your piece.
The capture is complete.
The King of Resistance has fallen.
The game has ended.

Candlelight glances off your blue eyes
into my own of green and through to my soul.
This image of tranquil blue pools
transported by flickering fire--
peace and passion fused into one--
such contrast to logic,
is as confusing to me as my love for you.
You make your move--
a tender kiss and an invitation to bed.
I capitulate without resistance.

Candlelight falls across your bed
as we begin a dance of life.
I kiss your eyes, your nose, your chin.
Your unshaven face brushes my lips
as your mouth seeks mine.
I hold you close, then release
to place sweet kisses
along the length of your body.
I breathe in your scent,
and feel the warmth and hardness of you.

Candlelight falls across our bodies
as we dance together in ancient rite,
stirring our animal-selves to higher passion.
Later, with bodies spent, we lay
like wooden soldiers,
in a final embrace,
fallen in sacrifice to a greater force.

Candlelight reflects in a mirror,
doubling its brightness
and filling the void with yellow hue.
Our souls, my sweet one
mirroring for one another
seem more than the sum
of me and you.

Copyright Ron Hudson, 4 June 1996. Previously appreared in Roger Hume's Other Voices Poetry International, vol. 5.

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