Visions of Johanna
Visions of Jahanna
By Sean Rice

Eyes like a lighthouse guiding ships to slip on by
A sigh.
The questions gathered in to lie like broken souls
The Blues shutter inward to invite me in
to crash among the shoals
Such a siren she can be
in silent misery
I do not move a muscle, now;
Gaze through the dirty glass
And then she's back with smiles
thanks my patience for the while
as the moment is allowed to pass.

Her neck against my nose is a warm perfume.
Hairs tickle against my cheek in the room
breasts press against me and I...
I do not move a muscle, now.
Let this moment go away some other day
not now not now not again I want to say
Parting is such sweet misery this way
My fingers stray to graze upon unseen fruit and arms and side and then reach up to grab a strand of hair or two and

"until" her lips mouth to me and the motion is a mistake.
It's the mistake that prey always make: To move
And there I am: Hungry against and burning -- with my beard. With a fire.

I wake without a motion and see her lying
I'm dying
not to move a muscle lest the spell is broken
with my eyes to trace the length of her
the open blouse a token
of soft feminity my hands remember
gifts not time yet to tender.
I am the child on christmas eve to peek
but it is the strand of hair my hand finally seeks
From her face I brush it away
the tiredness from the day
I love you, I finally say
and then fall back asleep

Walking under the sun, sweaty palms glued together
I look over as she gazes both ahead and at her thoughts
I see now the pictures there.
Her eyes flick over them and not over the cars that pass
Her mouth work over some problem

A fierce stance. I love her poise.
Balanced tension for flight at a noise
the boys
they'd never see the beauty there.
Right before their eyes she bears
the wear of a daily fight
The courage of non-flight
the love of life an ember barely burning in the light
the smile slight
as she recognizes my unconcious stare

Hips sway upon the steps and I walk behind
the shape of her motion I want to find
I wish to reach out and lay my hands upon her ass as she walks
just to feel the muscles move
just to feel the realness of it soothe
Just to end the hunger of my eyes.
A painting for the louvre
I don't mind

I don't mind at all.
Visions of Johanna play before my eyes
Summer will turn to Fall
Tomorrow maybe this is it and then the long good-byes.