Wistful Pleasure

Words hang from your shirttail
Stand still while I copy them down
it will only take a moment.

You leashed an I love you note
to the collar of my white shirt
then left behind your scent
on my pillow.

Pull away other-
wise you will see
a drowning in disguise.

A wistful pleasure vision
swirling time in your mouth
in the dying embers of
whispers and laughter.
Water trails create deep
trenches along our skin.

Soft Edges

Sound waves
make the air tremble…
Tumble in a soliloquy
leather tongue rasps
over the course
emissions of soma cravings.

Ebb and flow of a natural state
chains turn to strands
neither bind nor constrict.

In the darkness
the world spirals
into a smoky realm.
Words are wrapped
in soft harmonies

Reaching the ocean
seashells ration out
watery secrets
Not identity, essence.

Northbound

Fast paced steel careening
through dark tunnels
we forget we are carved
from the earth.

He carries three table
legs on the subway car.
Is there a table at home
balanced on one leg waiting
for the rest to arrive?

A young woman wearing indigo
stockings leans against an iron
column flamingo-like.

An older woman is a crimson
rose whose bloom has started
to fade. Her edges are curling
outward into a black silent fury.

He wears his suit in a careless way
the creases have long been pressed
in as he skims his New Yorker magazine.

The train jostles us on our journey
forward…into the darkness, north-
bound. She slumbers
against the wall, her lids flutter
with purple eye shadow as
she rests her eyes in a delicious nap.