A woman's stance
feet parted so
that like a breezy window
the mantle opened slightly
lets in curves of salty air-
but here there is no, in
simply out there peeks
a corner of skin revealed
and just above the navel
a ripened orange,
brown with sugar
floats.
A bend and twist
of a monarch's
wings
A dart of fluttering,
flaunting
the color the butterfly
melts to buttery
compassion and cream.
And around your
body it does
curl.
Lifted setting sun
before the
walk of that green
mile, a foreigner's
thirsty hands
are quenched
and a broken
mouth is mended.
a face falls
as eyes close
as whispers
like wind chill,
biting.
A heaving breathless favor
rests upon a body of
silken nurturing
pillows with a soft voice.
Diffusing the despair.
Of dying will
and tired eyes.
These are your
last waking hours.
open and entreating,
She will cushion
your terror.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
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Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
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like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
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when we are twisted up together-in blankets and the colors of the outside of our window- are washed out in the storm.
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husband and I trek a mile for ice cream just for the creamy banana, crunchy pecans, and chunks of thumb-sized chocolate. shoes flipping and...
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nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
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I thought it would be fitting to do an original of mine, but one of it's earlier drafts. I have recently reworked this poem so it includ...
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Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
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Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
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La Jolla for Theodor Geisel (Dr. Seuss) Barefoot on the coast after burnt toast from the long-nosed stove on the cove. I will escape the poi...
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Pedi-ness The awkward tomboy within me hides in the balls of my feet. Itching, rising up my leg begging for a scratch. "Oh, say somethi...
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A woman's stance feet parted so that like a breezy window the mantle opened slightly lets in curves of salty air- but here there is no, ...
This poem has a dreamlike 'feel' to it. Beautiful words and flow.
ReplyDeleteSomehow in this dream is a lurking nightmare that really only takes some kind of form in the last 4 lines! Fascinatingly disturbing!
ReplyDeletethanks for the reading! :)
ReplyDeleteYes, it does feel dream-like, then the sudden jab of the ending. Wow!
ReplyDeletethanks Sherry :)
ReplyDeletePoems like this, my mind creates a scenario. I suppose it is my nature, to reach for conclusion, to want all the facts. I see a man condemned...and through the bars, the brief glimpse of a woman...her skin. The vision is powerful enough to buffer death. He spends his last hours in this conjugal visit with a mirage.
ReplyDeleteI love it! Thank you.
wow, talk about hitting the nail on the head.
ReplyDeleteThank YOU!