cherry braids

We morph and have wings
like words.
I memorize them the way
lovers memorize faces.
I want you tracing curves,
stealing my embellishments with your tongue.
A raucous frenzy.
I want you worshiping
like they used to do on temple steps
amid streaming citrus and
pomegranate.
Balsam and cherries.
Braids and corded crowns call your
name from massive stone stairways.
Idolize me outside the walls.
I will not be taken.
I give.
Startling sensations butterfly my
silk-softened wounds,
as you encase me,
gorgeous,
lofty,
in a prism prison
of war.
Your red sun is shooting sparks
over my lively fatalities,
my breathing cadavers,
my frozen lungs,
my opened heart.

20 Comments

  1. This poem flows like the swift drain of honey put to flame that coats the whole heart and drains down to the deepest caverns of the soul. Wonderful use of the written word. I shall follow you. You have the gift. 😀

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