Early Morning Love

I kept stopping at work today and thinking back on this morning.

The dark, getting-cold, early hours of an Autumn morning.

I stretch out under the doona, vaginal dilator held snugly between my thighs, the cold retreating, the warmth seeping in - slowly. I drift off into a cat sleep, alert to time, not letting myself lose myself into too deep a sleep, not letting myself be late for work.

I stir and wake, aware of a warm presence along my long flank. I turn my head; the soft, cold light dimly picks out an untidy desk and clothes draped over chairs.

Next to me, very, very close, is my darling Alex, my heat-seeking missile, nuzzling, as close as he can get, some primordial female source of warmth and softness and safety. Quietly, I send out soft, gentle waves of love to lap around his dear head. He is lying on his belly, hands tucked under his chin like a little animal asleep on its paws.

Oh! Goddess! That I may never have to leave here, leave now!

I would cling to him like a koala backpack to a schoolchild. Holding his playlunch like I hold my heart for him. Hugging him tight with my furry straps as he builds dubious dams of bright orange clay in rain-rushing gullies. Tonight I would smell of overripe banana and schoolboy and his mother would stuff his shoes with newspaper.

I do feel blessed...and loved, dearly, oh! so dearly!

The far end of the beach

Gulls,
White and grey,
Huddle by waves;
Clustered like cockleshells,
At the far end of the beach.

No-one else will come here:
Too many rocks, too many weeds,
And the stagnant smell of run-off.

I, too,
Am a niche dweller,
End-of-beach dweller,
Huddled where no one else will go.

Waves
Pound down
The shores of my heart.
Wind
Lifts and ruffles
The strands of my hair.

Sensing the squall,
We turn,
I and the gulls,
Bracing our backs
For the sea-change.

Surety shifts its shape.

The silent begin to speak. The invisible are seen. The hidden revealed . It is becoming harder and harder to keep the marginalised in the margins. Those whom we were sure it was right not to give rights now demand them. Surety shifts its shape.

He leaned closer, troubled, pushing away his coffee cup...

"Yesterday I had not met you; had you sized up in a quite small and rather grubby box tucked away where I wouldn't have to see it. Now you are sitting unashamedly at my table; taller than I thought you had a right to be. I am confused by mixed messages. Are they yours or mine? I know what is right and what is wrong - don't I? Why do I catch myself feeling differently? As if you really were a woman? Are you? If you are what does that say about me? If you are minding your own business why do I feel unsettled? Why do my children accept you so readily; why is wonderment their most negative reaction?

Yesterday I was sure about things. Today the world has stretched, bigger, wider, taking me with it."