October 28, 2014

why spanking mattered...

‘The Moon’s Rapture’ Frank Frazetta ©

bending goddess nodes

lustfully drunk
with oscillations
chaos algorithm
pulsed furious
she laughs
loosens moorings

this late October sky 
points water’s cling 
to the tiny exhales
broad leaf trees
still hunt sunlight
with her reflection

phenol grace ordinal
seasons leave
trace elements
in the tannin

rust is
her base note decay
she captures souls
flourishes by stealing
the slowest of fires

there was
in her beauty
in her subtlety
in her wielded velvet
this relaxed me
an assassin melody
it arrested assured
bloom counting
let go(s) and
turns back

she wore bare skin streetlight
yellow serenade lace
architectural grain 
the scent of open windows
a reign of woods between houses

we turned our phones off
letting frenzy have no safe word
the marks, with the desert cold
of Winter veining in
could be covered with clothing
until they smoothed over

the memories, however
were all our limbs we sacrificed
standing for algebra and symphony
staining the raw parts we ate
humming guttural sounds
knowing exactly what
caught soul smelled like