She is a pearl, a night pearl left on shore
to enrapture moon
her glow infinite, beneath water, o-er ocean
she turns, a velvet ribbon and I follow
possessed by singular vision
her irregular grace and
the dystopia of instinct
loathes the outline of her leave
with ferocity
she surplants my own gaze
by watching her, I find loveliness again
our language intuited
keys in a fruit bowl
picked at will
flash of silver and her hand
shaped in intention, shifting gears
knee down on gas, slivering through night
was it then?
Harpsichord of need gathered like penitents at wake
wishing themselves beneath earth
if it would evoke feeling, would wake sleeping
outliers of faith, to disturb solemn procession
to forgetting, our tempura hearts
beating in fragile unison
was it then? Testing breakable surface
I chose to dive, collecting your solvent depths
in pollinating gown, as I could taste
grace in my mouth, a melange of unspoken
longing, bursting beneath my blind swallow
I would lie here, my hand in yours, the
curve of us indistinquishable, skin hot with
persperation, a thruming channel of
love coursing my veins
you, in the center, a delight cresting and falling
waves of us, feeling for shoreline, that last cry
holding me to your quake, as passenger will clasp
her bird in descent, flat feathers, going deeper
find another place, as yet unopen to
entreat with the crocus of her heart
til you open again
and a river runs
no words
only felt
that latch lifted
and you place the key
deep within
TheFeatheredSleep 