a not too distant object

by June 24, 2012 0 comments

slowly she turns
and bends on stage
in the purple light
in the yellow and in the blue
hips pop – corks too
as clocks
or planets swing
shots burn
bells ring
cool smooth marble smiles
conspire to conceal the fire within
like prisoners and ovens burn
making noooo connections in the dark
drawn to her – my light – my one
while I pretend to look away
zippers blush
and cosmos churn

poets are strippers of the heart
naked on the page
the stage
the line
the beat

and the spaces in between

editors note:

And, oh, the things poets yearn to do between those lines… *pop* – mh

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