Do more of what you love

You said

'Do more of what you love'

but I looked at my life

in despair

as there were no more

minutes to be found

and I know you're not sadistic

(honestly)

so this must mean

something more profound

I looked again at the strictures

and the activity

I could not have arranged it better

if I was deliberately

seeking misery

There was nowhere to go

nothing to do

You told me 'Do more of what you love'

so I went back to you and said:

There is nothing left

there is no other way

You need to show me

how to make love to my life

Teach me how to make love

to my day.

Sanskrit

If I don’t drink Absinthe

and slip

down dark alleys

seeking unmarked basement

doors

If I don’t Absolut-ly

watch the world

through the curved lens

of a a glass bottle

smash down

the warming shot of

my transparent

knowing

wipe my mouth

with the back

of my wrist

slip off the bar stool

and into the crowd

where we’ll

dance too closely

enjoy too darkly

If I don’t

hear gun shots on

the dance floor

sit down with crooks

and steal their treats

how will I remember

the wisdom sutras

dive deep enough

to sing my soul

stand down

impassive tyrants

How will I learn to slay

and learn to sheath

or let my lips

remember the ancient tones

of Sanskrit?

Come home to me

Why am I biting my precious tongue?

The tongue is an organ of loving

Feel the love flow between us

the pouring, the gushing

the gentle prattling to your sweetheart

You just want to be known

confiding in me your lifetimes

all of your stories, your learnings

I have the other half of these

the wisdom, understandings

I will explain it all, the primal rush

the love play

the way you slay me

How whatever happens

I still go to pieces when you play

the symphony

between my tongue and my love

The harmonics of good, and god-like

and ‘what is that!’ and ninja-sweet attainment

I make it ok in you, the god in you

the stuff that makes no sense in you

Come home to me

Why am I biting my precious tongue?

torturing this love organ

when we are both speaking through it

giving and receiving

when the chiding and forgiveness come in two

When you finish my sentences, my being

as brother-sister, one-it-y

While you tickle all my love organs

with your ecstasy, our laughter

I have as much to give

as to receive

I am the engine that makes us go

You need to listen to what I say

as part of you

I find the needle in your hay

and know what to do

It’s ok

You slay me

Come home to me

I am not biting my precious tongue

© Jennifer Mutlu-Collins

For third party usage requests for poetry or writing found here or on social media, please get in touch. All requests must be made in writing.