Sabina Tomkins

My lover has no name
there is no face

for my beloved

the waves of identity
curl into each other

each pain is the same pain
I eat the pill of pain
and  know its name

they know each other
never mind
having never met

through sweat
I taste the same rhythm
lust has no face
and the time and place
in the odor of primality

I give and I get
but I gave more
and now less
though its another person
on top of me

this is so unfair its ludicrous
but past shadows
claim my old generosity
and todays demons feast
on my renewed ferocity

there is no face
there is only ecstasy
dull regret
sharp mourning
and everything in between

the smooth feeling
of a Sunday morning
that has the ability to assert
look she’s something
there’s someone to have breakfast with
and the routine
of parading intimacy
through the waiting walk
of commercial fish bowls

there is no face
but there are sounds
I know his sound
it made me uncomfortable
I know his sound
too proud and soft
like a cocked velvet snowflake
I know his voice
and it is mine

and I know the feelings
they burst and churn
each morning
as I reach out my arms
to the retreating dreams

why did I have to experience so much
and be left with so little?
left here with no one
but love poems
and the splendid eruption
of a lotus fire

I am desire

my lover has no face
and I trace my fingers along it
all the same
defining infinity
erasing details
bone structure
capturing the loveliness
and condensing it
into a single flame

why should my lover have a name?

Nanny’s Lessons

I used to believe I was only kind because
I was cowardly
too selfish for the best pickings
to be loud and cruel and gleeful

now I understand the courage it takes
to be generous as a smiling sunflower
giving the golden kiss of empathy
across daily fathoms of despair

it is easy to be silent and meticulously look away
rather than to ask a caring question
fear: addictive, seductive, slipping like a constant cloak
natural to wear

opening my eyes
being the belly button of the earth and sky
now I feel the terrifying potential
of self love

how long did this beast wait for me?
growing from a seed
into oceanic depths, celestial extension, salty power
love was coiled to show me courage

before my sympathy was weakness
now my empathy is my secret strength
instead of seeing others
I feel them and know divine energy

this earth listens to me each day
through my footsteps we converse
and I ask it to teach me its great knowledge of hearing
the language of love

how easy the shadow
how hard the sun
I live to try
teach me your song

This is a pen...


Sabina Tomkins writes poetry as a method of exploring herself and the world. She currently lives in New York where she studies computer science.

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