Mimi and Mona - Poetry: Your Fingers Map My Body

©Your Fingers Map My Body

Mimi Wolske

Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Good God! What was I thinking

to fall for you ten seconds

after you pulled the air from my lungs?

Why do you have to be so perfect

for a female like me, late to fall in love?

Why do I have to react

as though I've been singed

each time you hold onto my hipbones

as if they were your personal guns —

"something," you said, "to hold onto

during a wild ride" —

and each time your fingers map my body

and carve surrender on my spine?

I drew articles of love on your back

in the sweat after hours of making love.

You laughed your wicked laugh

when I begged for five more minutes —

they turned into another hour.

My memory burns with the feeling

of your fingers curled in mine,

holding my hands while you kissed me.

Damn! The way you kissed me

and said I belonged to you

is like a collar around my neck

with your brand burned into it.

There we were, two empty tenements

in desire-deserted cities,

but you came into mine like a

bulldozer and you

kissed me on the lips.

It felt like an entire sentence;

I held my breath, waited

for the rest of the paragraph.

We became novels

written in our own

untranslatable language and

understood by only us two.

When you had to leave,

we became ellipses,

waiting until the next passionate

encounter with baited breath.

You possess the legend

for every inch of me.

You have charted my back,

the rise and fall of my breasts,

the curves from breasts to waist to hips.

On the scarred flesh

of my inner lip is a

rosy tattoo where you bit into it.

You know all the distances

traced by your tongue and lips

between my neck to my ribs to

where the cave is too tight to scale

without leaving the

language of your warm breath.

Neither of us is a road untraveled,

but old road maps are long

since irrelevant and places

anyone else once knew

have been unknowable since

a time before time when

we learned to chart each other.

I am mapless in your arms —

I swear it's true.

There is something wild

in you...I felt it under your

skin that very first night,

so I promise to destroy

fallen civilizations up

by their roots...you will

become feral again,

like an animal living

on top of the ruins —

but I am not ruinous.

We are both careless

cartographers —

lost in each other

but you are best at being lost.

Mimi and Mona - Poetry: Past the Point of Poetry

©PAST THE POINT OF POETRY

Mimi Wolske

August 29, 2014

All Rights Reserved

I did not anticipate you...

The smell of you in my hair

When it's time for either of us to leave.

Miles and miles between us,

Measurable by fuel, passports, barbed wire.

I have whispered your name in my sleep,

The emptiness next to me holding it

For months until parallel lines

Cross our paths -- walking towards you,

You running alongside me,

Charting you in the stars

All summer, anticipating something

I only name when we're finally together

You could write it in my blood that

This is only the middle of a very long story.

We kiss as if it's fate;

We can't stop convincing ourselves it isn't.

I don't cling to you -- not my style,

But I think we spend to many nights

Trying to force ourselves into the cracks

Of the floorboards and coming up

Rootless when our nights are spent apart.

I did not pray for this.

Time is never entirely erased...

We're part of each other,

Made of the same stuff as war criminals,

As Mount Everest,

As the last person we kissed with any emotion.

You press your emotion into me

On lazy mornings at the lake,

Or on road trips.

I press mine into you with every word I write.

When we part,

I forget how to navigate through normal life,

Rushing headlong into it, perfectly careless

As Lupus' girl playing in the snow.

We are on a mission...laughing,

Talking, fingers intertwined.

You said it first. "Try it...just see how it feels."

And it felt like my insides were burning,

Like my heart was on fire,

Like I could feel every sensation to the core of me...

You knew I'd like it.

I still like it.

Professions of love on the phone

At two a.m. in the morning

Are like arithmetic...

Statistically ending in bed

Past the point of poetry.

Mimi and Mona - Poetry: THE FALL AND RISE

© The Fall and Rise

Mona Arizona

All Rights Reserved

Mimi Wolske – Mona Arizona™

What is the distance between

My thirst and your throbbing lust?

One nano-crystal.

Be at my door in ten;

In twenty you take me down,

Sixty from now, time will stop…

Never needing much more--

Damp lips, skin and dirty minds--

To release this buzz.

Yours are not kisses;

They are implicit stories

Of explicit acts.

Oh! something's burning

Uh-oh! clothes fall to the floor

Fuck dinner, eat me,

Then get me all steamed up,

Wide open, waiting, begging,

drill me 'til I shake.

Your tongue chasing shapes,

Holding mine, I fight the urge

To ride you silly.

Sensual whispers in my ear,

Your suave scent, and what I hear

Almost gets me off.

Like a relentless magnet

Pulling towards your body

Is my vibrating lust

Until delicate moans

Escape the moist lips of this

Uncovered lover.

You and I are meant to be

Between the sheets of lightning

Zorbing together.

Your touch floors me,

Softly fuels the forceful need

For you to fill me.

In these watery eyes,

Manifest my thrilled surprise

Of your drenched meat rising,

So that regardless of pace

We provoke internal quakes

Every which way.

Bodies rule our minds;

"Now" has never been closer

Than when you’re pleasing me

Within these four walls;

Hearts sink through sheets burdened by

Complete indulgence.

With unspeakable skills,

You exceed my expectations

Of mind-altering sex,

Leave me wanting more,

Drippingly wet by the thought

Of what we do best.

Lick my ice cream cones while

I melt under your warm tongue

Into a wet spot.

Because you love it

Like the last drop of water,

Kiss my lush, south mouth,

Squishing sticky breasts,

Flaming lips, and burning flesh,

And thrust this itch away.

Come, let's fall and rise

For the seventh time tonight,

Fuck ourselves to sleep.

Honey, when I squeeze,

I can tell your heart's racing

From inside of me;

Me in wonderland,

I can't tell my up from my down.

Tears from passion spent.

Originally published 2011

MIMI AND MONA'S POETRY: Faster Than The Speed of Dark

a reading of Faster Than The Speed of Dark

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fPddAxBxqUI

©Faster Than the Speed of Dark

Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved!

What if the fabric of this

Dimension folded just enough

To permit you to move in bliss

Faster than speed of light—puff!

So quickly no one saw

You move into the fourth

Dimension, where you stop—voila!

The neighboring positions…orth-.

Protons traversing the realm

Of darkness faster than

Previously thought. It would whelm

A self-important scientific clan.

With the Pillars of Physics

Struggling not to Fall

Across the universe’s fabrics

In spite of it all,

Faster than the speed of dark

That shadowy crack,

That bore a different kind of ark

Dimensional zooming in the black,

Ran down the middle of a life

Bringing the future so close

It kept folding and the echo is rife

With fear of what one never knows.

The number, far between

And few in this third dimension,

Will witness those who glean

Like harvesters for the fourth dimension.

The echo is you resonating through

And beyond length, height, and width,

From the pitch black depths most eschew,

Flickering like an astrophysical being with breadth.

Felt in the eyelids is the weight

Of encroaching darkness,

Which is veiled for a reason; chelae

Cutting through the difference causing bleakness.

The difference that brings

Me to you in the fourth dimension

Faster than the speed of dark like changelings

From another dimension.

Mimi Faster than the Speed of Dark 0002