i long for the coolness that
is quickly erased at the blossoming
lips on the pink soil my neck offers,
like a humble fatted calf,

the raking of two bodies over coals,
a sweet singing aroma of stardust
curling like contented toes,
soft, polished rocks sinking into curves.

the sturdy tree limbs pinned
in a kind, loving wind, stars locked
into stars, hips up to silent
conversations, the wriggling of a morning sun.

12/19/2007

Author's Note: Open, empty hands.

Posted on 12/19/2007
Copyright © 2010 Jeremy Magee