Thursday, February 28, 2013

Her fingers move the veil over the landscape

Her fingers move the veil over the landscape
of her body mysteriously while the calm
heavens illumine the birds. The words escape
my comprehension, I open both of my palms
and grasp for her sweet flesh. The Sunshine
proclaims her saving acts in several psalms
and lost old books. The dark red of the wine
pours into undulating clouds and my heart
does not withhold love. The grains of a fine
sand slip through my fingers, she is the art
that I do not conceal. The fabric drapes
itself over her curves, her legs move apart
as I enter her. The wet skin of the grape
reflects her eye's incomprehensible shapes.

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