Luscious the gates are: I lick the surface.
It holds me from you: that's your advantage.
No hope of you; nor hope of swift redress,
just - perhaps, you may hear a 'sexy growl'.
I touch fingertips to curves of sinners,
tenderly projected from medium,
blind to all else but the run of textures
and find gulfs between the crying figures.
I become someone I rarely am since
you - diamond and titanic.
I shine.
As I pound the doors, they boom and they shake;
yet they will never let me out.
Ah! So,
I conjure you in, paint your very flesh;
body you forth to these inmates, naked.
YOU ARE READING
Gifts and Shards Vol 2
PoetryThis is the second and final volume of 'Gifts and Shards'. This takes us from the second month to now well over three years later, though there were many C poems in the collections tracking the seasons. There are no similar stories!
