Sunday, 8 August 2010

conversations with the darkening day

the wind breathes her secrets
so the lovers listen.


she rises.
some kind of ancient queen.
blood stirs.
skin feels porous.
lips stained the colour of lust.
the night caught fire.
and it's instinct mostly.
that, and wanting nothing
except everything.

following the river home.
looking for the places
you go in sleep.
painting ribbons
of red on walls
built by no one but you.
relishing the imperfections.
missing the horizon
almost as much
as the taste of green.

and the sky.

if only you could have seen the sky.

1 comment:

Timo said...
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