samedi 30 janvier 2016

Blue hour



Please, no more sighing eyes-- instead
let’s run away to Rajasthan, imagine:
dusty candy-bar wrappers smearing sand.


There, stones bleed colors seeping skin
--will we forget ourselves by morning?
whirling just enough, smog-steeped
snakebite throbbing on your neck &
imagine: it’s my venom.


How long do we have left? After
sunrise splits our bones to feed its fire,
will you still trust me?


A mouth-moving voiceless reply, another
fading desert dance-partner I thought
could be you-- my Sheherezade, ours
before abandoned dawn sneaks across
a single grey hair, light-singed pink.



And your hands find my breast, coax out poems, 
until the world wakes & we pretend not to know each other, 




except on mountains,

and motorcycles.  

Aucun commentaire:

Enregistrer un commentaire