| Sensual Sands |
We longed to imitate sensual sands but could not hold such frictions in palms, or even tight in woven mouths, so we walked the beach, making graveyards with tears when we stumbled into a moment pressed against the underside of the moon, and found heat, unnourished but with enough taste to ease through primrose lips. We lapped at it with our greed, found hearts pumping us toward the green-breasted hills of Roseau, understood the world and love as we breathed each other�s breaths, envisaged sands were not hearts; both were as beautiful as we, and, as they are made, fragile as glass. Todd K. Bush � 2004 |
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