There was only a splattered silence
between herself
and the stars.
She touched two softly-molded fingers to her belly,
reveling at the constellations jumping double-dutch
in the space where her shredded calypso heart-beat
should have spun.
Her curves swayed
like subtle, drunken words,
plucked from the pitcher-full
of browning cider
balanced regally on her hips.
Poetry slid from her tongue
and dripped from the contours
of her lips;
it was alive in her smile.
A god whispered goodnight
to her dimples, and the insides
of her folded wrists.
He looked like music,
and the golden-dusted rhythm
her bare feet
fell to.
A sunset burned on his scalp.
She found her comfort
nestled snuggly there,
throwing shy glances from behind his naps,
and honeyed kisses
like a timid lover.
He cusped her cheek;
and gravity craddled man into her arms,
carrying him back into the shadows
with a whispered secret
and a shared dream.
She receded from the porch -
it was empty now, after all -
and she took the moon's last caress
with her.
That night, she dreamt of purple fires.
That night, she dreamt of love.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
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