Jotted down over coffee. An okay beginning I think. May still play with this one a bit. Always love getting emails or messages with reader feedback….


Passacalgia

Four days
Begins the counting of time
The sweeping by of the hours

Four days
Since the cutting fields
Left marks in the places they were flung

Four days
Of knowing it doesn’t matter
Creeping closer towards the time of mourning

Four days
And I’ve been marking the minutes
Of all that can’t be taken back

Four days
Of asking impossible questions
Inside the bottom of my head.

Four days
Wasn’t the best of times for us
And another twenty-four hours

Doesn’t change anything.

Light

The slate sky has blanketed
his shoulders, sunk into the crags
until he rests his chin on my head,
allows arms to encircle my waist
and I gratefully accept this easy burden

My face tips back to nip his fruit
the lavender apple of early winter
beaming color into December
with a crease of lip and teeth.

Enjoying a major creative influx as of late. I love times like this….as a musician I can make it happen, as a writer I have to let it happen…anyway, enjoy!


MAKE ME

Feel sexy at the sound
Of fingers sliding over guitar strings
Plucking note after note
As the eye winks past
A bare and pretty shoulder

Give chase beneath the trees
And under the abandoned trellis
Mess up the Sunday best
As the errant hem is held down
To hide the thing I know he wants

Toss aside the impractical shoe
With the single flick of a painted toe
Skim down the creamy leg with stocking
Show that I am strange, seductive, mocking
With brutal kisses biting willing lips

A short bit of work from this morning. I have already revised it once already. Still tinkering with it. But I think an okay start….


Postlude

The scent of his body
Clings to the palm of my hand

His fragrance is of cornflowers
The clean air of a clear sky
The earthy perfume of red clay
The slight sting of sea salt
The musky green of woodlands
The fresh tang of a hot pepper

The scent of his body
Clings to the palm of my hand