© Sauce*Box, Winter 1997-98. All
rights revert to author.
Eye to Eye?
By M. Squire
You hold his hand while you,
having climbed half way up a hill
look back over a scene of wonder;
The light, the weather,
the trees, a stream
You smile in his eyes as you share this
scene of beauty.
Blaze of orange, streams of red
wash the bellies of clouds.
The light has a peculiar quality
lucid and waiting
Awash in twilights calm and yet,
roiled by an oncoming storm.
Flash of lightning and crack of thunder
vanguard to the approaching melee.
Three maples on a small hill
dance to the winds caress,
gaily turning the silver undersides of their leaves
to the storms light.
Grass is obscenely verdant,
marigolds blaze with vitality
along a stream bed that begins
at the crest of the hill, meandering
gracefully down.
His eyes grow dreamy and far away
transfixed by the scene before him,
whispered question, his thoughts sought;
"What are you thinking, love?"
Good ground. Military crest.
Be careful not to silhouette against skyline.
Excellent fields of fire.
Three trees have to go. Reference point.
Single wrap C4, knee high and cut.
Push charge, head high, make tree fall there.
Stream. Avenue of approach
Cover with trip flares, grenades, claymore.
Lightning and thunder. Yes! Artillery
Isolate ridge with arty, mortars high angle
fire beyond the ridge.
Destroy enemy with direct fire; machine guns, interlocked
on face of hill.
Remember, never leave the way you came.
Ambush.
"Lovely ground dear. Why don't we walk this way
out
of here?"
Later you are intimate...
You glow as he strokes
the thin flesh at the corner of your eye.
the flat plane of your temple,
worshiping
times tracks, measured in laughter
and squint of glare.
You are pleased in stanching time's flow
on that delicate, tell tale area with cream and unguent
you purr as he notices(bought)youth.
Head. Vulnerable
At least three ways, three portals
Use both hands as a lover
Grip. Strike. Heel of palm
Drive nose into brain.
Knuckle crushes thin temple. bone splinters. Stilettos
Strong thumbs, corner of eyes.
Plunge swiftly, blindness then death.
Breathing is key. Control
Thought inhalation exhalation execution.
You moan seeing him crouched between
your spread thighs.
His strong white teeth gleam in his tanned face.
His tongue darts out and quests for
and finds your heartbeat along your inner thigh.
His hot mouth finds your pulse.
He has the power to alter its pace
by nip of teeth, suck of lip and sooth of tongue.
Your hand strokes the bristly softness
of his close cropped hair. Your Pet.
One bite. twist and rip
Femoral spurts
11 jets normally do it.
Struggle fiercest on 3 through 8
First 2 steeped in disbelief,
Last 3 in acceptance
Turn the face,
hold the legs,
struggle is good
speeds the process.
Thoughts are controlled. Actions tempered
by peace.
But as you share a smile, and see a thing
be aware his vision is often overlaid
by strife.
* * * * *
Your critique of this work is appreciated.
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