Jun 13, 2013 00:40
I met her once
neither coming nor going
unable to stay, yet unable to leave
her voice the song of the evening,
carried on winds from another time
at first she noticed not,
as everyday must pass,
drifting, laughing, sighing-
her own amusements she kept
till gazes met and attentions flared
O the long lines of her
smooth and unstable
white as fresh cream
with hair lighter still
yet long dark lashes
I know not what wind stroked her cheeks
what ever-changing clothes
gave her both nakedness and regality
to my sight, at once
borrowed from within
Dark her eyes
no iris kept
but full dark pupils
reflecting light
as cats stalking shadows
turning towards me she spoke, she sang
in this time I understood
these curiosities presented
I opened, gave my heartbeat
with this she was satisfied
a smile, a showing of teeth
two separate actions of singular fluid motion
in her turn of dissolution,
a lasting remark remained
the lonely tear she left behind
poetry