If Kipling Knew When

When I can’t trust my restless fingers near you,
       But my gaze returns, because it wants to.
When your body, nestling in mine as you
       Are grabbing my flesh, thrusting me to you,
When I can wrap gossamer locks in my hands,
       Or twirl on your spire, a moment’s embrace;
Or twirling, grab your hot air balloon strands
       And never fear floating back to your face

When I can own you—without staking my claim,
       When I can submit like dirt in the rain;
When I am a lion in jungle terrain,
       And creep slowly through your forest of pain.
When gazing in the un-celestial nite,
       I’ll journey along the stars in your faults,
Or the wells of pain that let in the bright light,
       And unlock your heart like a sealed-off vault.

When my soul is a palace, riverbed glass
       And my heart a stream where salmon can swim
And my will a dark cave where no one can pass
       And I cannot help from letting you in
When my feet tiptoe across the morning dew
       To bask in the aura of your sunshine
And I step inside of your perfect blue
       Reveling in your rainbow that feels like mine

When my rivers bring water to your desire,
       Or my wind steers your ship back to harbor,
When my crimson blaze ignites your inner fire,
       When my love serves as your only armor,
When my mountain peaks never grow tired and quit,
       With only the thought of your clouds above,
Yours is my Earth and everything that’s in it,  
       And—which is more—you’ll be my Man, my love!

Jenny Lee Hurst

Jenny is Senior Public Health Analyst at Office of the Global AIDS Coordinator, U.S. Department of State. She works in the field of epidemiology and data analytics and is passionate about international development. She has served twice in the Peace Corps in the countries of Ukraine and Zambia. Her favorite hobby and undergraduate degree is Modern Poetry. She also enjoys running and re-reading Pale Fire. Jenny lives in Bethesda, Maryland with her partner.

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