Quickening
by Judy Seicho Fleischman
Lamentation.
Celebration.
It's all the same now,
pierces my heart,
revealing ordinary
precious beauty.
I'm happy to be happy,
I say instinctively.
By definition,
you reply, laughing.
Olive oil sizzles in the pan.
Whole garlic cloves bathe in it.
Luscious aroma fills the room.
I'm dazzled,
watching you conduct the scene,
assembling ingredients swiftly,
inviting each to offer itself completely,
without losing a single distinctive flavor
in becoming
this rainbow meal.
Looking out the window,
I see a city alive with light,
night sky illuminated
in reds, greens and yellows.
Though I cannot see it,
a near-full moon is rising.
In this space,
two feline figures
move freely.
Instinctively,
my hand reaches out.
She backs away.
Lie down,
you say.
Nervously I sit on the floor.
Lie all the way down,
you caution,
She likes you to meet her at her level.
Cautiously, I stretch out
in dead man's pose.
You move to the piano.
Sweet melody
fills the room.
Lying here
feels like a Tsunami building.
Sensations begin to flood my senses.
Just then
she draws near.
I feel her
soft fur
gracefully caress my arm,
bringing me back.
All this time,
a lone tiger
surveys the scene.
Perfectly at ease,
your fingers dance
on a shifting palate of black and white.
As you finish the final refrain,
the tiger approaches,
wanting to play.
You move.
You join him.
You say,
I challenge him and he challenges me.
Wild creatures
begin to dance.
I watch his white whiskers
move out of the way
as your hand closes in.
Finely attuned,
they cannot control
their instinctual response.
Time shifts.
Space opens.
Sitting on a couch,
eyes meet and focus.
Your body
my body
dancing,
stumbling to express
what is true.
What is this?
quickening
pulse,
unspoken,
untamed,
by definition
happy.
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