Listen to this poem, [cobalt & terra cotta]
her steely gaze of flaming bowls
filled with savoury brown poison
quivered under an umbrella of a carefully tweezed brow
made beautiful with a simple swipe of a master’s brush
an ornate awning hovers,
delicately splashed across a fleshy canvas
alien pink strawberries
plump and tender
pursed and rippling
with ever-so-slight charm
they squirm, life busting at the seams
creamy earthen-coloured clouds of leather
tip-tap, tip-tap
on the warm wet sidewalk of zion’s ghetto
streets paved with the skulls of lovesick men
a cobblestone sea of broken hearts and unfinished times
her defiant stance spoke frightful elegance
amplified by the megaphone of mystery
draped in contra-posta grace
engulfed in untamed illumination
her hands are newborn stars
one a fist
the other a palm
pulsating, glistening
red longing
black yearning
a congregation of might and calm tip-tap, tip-tap
resonating through the shadows of passed lives
into the minds of the shipwrecked on deserted islands of the alone
tears of the moon make moist asphalt
unearthing aromas riding waves of frosty air
smells of sweaty foundation and melted lipstick
swirled through the crisp hour of unsurety
like a thick drink of midnight sky,
her dress of muddied cobalt encroaches,
threatening with drunken blue darkness
creating a parade of hissing rustle
as the icy sting of one a.m. slaps
in the silence of the night
her lips spread to whistle an enchanting song
minds fog,
eyes blur
to the tune of blissful disorientation
open your eyes
don’t get lost
breathe fresh air
but without mercy
she swings and sways forward in smirking determination
her steps like gunshots in an empty night
butterflies awake in an empty stomach
hips rocking legs rolling
in muted rampage
her golden calves
move
and
groove
to the thump
of her sinewy thighs
breath of smoke and tongue of fire
from out of the rumbling roar of thunder
she breathed one word: You
pandora hits rewind and her box inhales
lightning in reverse, infant thunder, droplet ocean
and then
silence.tip-tap, tip-tap ….well?
the windows to her soul are clear as crystal
like pools of glass, untouched and brilliant
they meet my own as her smile wells them with tears
with a yes,
the gunshots are muffled
and the butterflies dance
i take her hand
tip-tap, tip-tap times two
we walk together on that windy way we call
Love.
the audio on this one is kinda cruddy. talking through my nose and rushed ;)