Susan Daniels Poetry

You enter my mind, insistent
as high tide claiming sand
and broken shells.  I came
to the cape running
from you, from dreams
heavy with salt and impossibility
stinging my eyes.

Here
your absence shouts
in wind that shakes
windows, fog
that slides between fingers.

Ten times today I wanted
your voice long distance
to melt me like a cat
in strong sun.  Ten times
I wanted you impossibly here:
Dorothy tapping toes
of red shoes together, body taut
with hope.

Again, the tide
reminds me.  How beautiful
to live inside your cycles, to expose
and cover gently
jagged edges; your rusted metal,
splintered wood fears.  To live
wide open
part of the time, secrets
offered casually, then covered
quickly.

I want to walk into you
smooth as glass, my arms
open to need
clean as acid, your hungry
undertow.