aware we wear thin
sometimes these sleeves
of dreams, bare armed
shared dared soft
and inviting
scent(s)
between us
the tongue
is a muscle
kind and mind
the finding of(s)
what ails
and fells
our tails
and tells
when it rains
oh yes, when it rains
her blessings
begin, and I
eye am a slow thirsty
reach, cupped palms
bent knees I speak
this poem language
our bodies splashing
painting trailing light
spilling passing walls
shadows falling away
we are angled
angels alluring
assuring, moving
mass to ass an us
note after note
stacked studied distilled
a potent portent thus life :
this blood, breath
and bones
between us
the exit music
was all muffled laughter
inside a slow winch of a smile
held near burst
"...the sideboard has food
should you need to replenish
your energy reserves darling..."
checking quickly
looking around the room
was there
a camera crew
filming this
televised consumption
assumption being
that this was imaginary
or some sundry late night peep show
or even the end of another poem
as April nears Beltane
and poets hang horny
and for sale signs
everywhere
especially
here where things like
little yellow stars
fade into the blue
like me into you
as the credits
keep on rolling
and we wait
breathless almost
as if another scene
we were about to be in
was being made
between us
EJR ©
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