| Mediterranean Blush
The crowning was as a birth. Sex was a fall into the morning Mediterranean. I hadn�t even met her, but I could crawl; I even walked on new moons. As her eyes invited me in, I did crawl. I taught myself to dance as I hid atop her Flesh pale as new milk in late spring�s fog, Until we were buried in a colossal bed As lovers pressed together in God�s hand For the first time. We fell into a fit of fast, hard kisses, As one might expect from two having such a call, And neither listened nor forgot the sounds created: Low smashing groans and tight-muscled screams, Breathless thrashing and hearts that seemed sheeted In a glass-jar echo that would, in the morning When the dew cried and the coo of unseen birds smiled us Into waking, become a ringing bell of memories That would dawn in every future meeting of our eyes. As she walked away, as she whispered the air, I fell into the white pain of need near ether Until I found my eyes open and well; Open and well deep inside a most magnanimous heart, Long and empty as a poor soul�s ballroom. But I could recall the Mediterranean blush. Her imprints were everywhere, like a warm smell; They carried me, lewd and spoiled, to new moons. I clung to her as her kisses belled against my flesh. Night swept me into oblivion and her august arms. And I did not crawl. And I did not walk; I ran into her milk and great curtained mouth As if her lips held the very breath of tomorrow. roadpan � 2005 |