Friday, September 17, 2010



Your eyes are cerulean cotton sheets
Swaying clothes-line slowly
On hot enough days
Their ripple cause by brushing hands
Of warm wind
Rattling slight opening and closing
Soft scent of soap and rain

Your fingers are piano keys
Ivory and smooth
When pressed and interlaced with mine
Music sometimes flat
Sometimes sharp
But always beautiful lilts and clamors

For hips are rolling hills
The kind that drop your stomach going down
Rise it going up
Leave you breathless on top
Satin grass to lie in
Close and complete
Undulating, beckoning, laughing

Your name is a killing word
Destroying the want to wake
Obliterating the need to get up
From next to you
Tearing down my defenses
Squeezing out salt tears
Tearing into my skin to let the sun in

The most amazing curves
That travel from back of neck and under arms
Far down to tips of toes
Roller-coastering fast and fire and free
Ripping out and in then out
Down to hungry and hot and wet
And moving past to taut
To white pearl
Watermelon and strawberries and whipped cream

Your song causes ruptures in everywhere
Makes places loosen and relax
Others tighten and rise
None stay the same
They all curl, shift, twist

The completeness of you
Is vast and incomprehensible sometimes
But real and same and enveloping


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