Shower Scene

by on August 2, 2009 :: 0 comments

Sometimes paper is no place for poetry; its
margins, motifs, schemes— revision—edits
sometimes you only get one shot, don’t miss

so listen for the water—
drawing trots on soft surface:
tanned pigment; the mirror’s
steamed—a lover is
drenched dot by dot
suds & bubbles devour curves

the water rounding the drain
is all the better after
liquid licks down her
nose, elbows and who knows—
I know what else…
The best ends—
for two hands, ten fingers, two lips; a tongue
spots soaked; streaks sneak in centimeters
cleanliness: this goddess;
my goodness, her scent
on towels, toilet paper;

Listen—the water—
the veil blankets &
devours her;
dots, steam – sexier than lace
hazy curtains & running water
lust louder than war—
sexed curves,
wet bends—down the ribs…
to trace the steps is to find God &
the old curtain didn’t stop him

She’s poetry &
all for me

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