Ruby Palma
(for E and C in New York, 2005)
I touch your hair and feel the silk of woman;
trace your brows, well-kept and arched as mine.
Noses touch, leaving us breathless, reeling;
cheeks caress and hearts fill with softness.
Chins lift, quivering for the next kiss.
Lips touch, and we are in moons of bliss.
Let us nurture this ritual of body and spirit,
shave our brows and trade secrets like friends;
flirt and cavort, for aren’t we all lovers
embracing the nights and leaving our scent on earth;
hold my hand in march, my dearest
and brave the battle of what we could become.
Banners wave as we rise to ourselves as women,
stay with me sweet comrade, for another
ritual of rebirth.
