Mann Of Quinn

Cannot see where this is going now
Or even remember just what was said
About a kiss with secret perfumes laid on
Naked serpentine plumes twisting in the evening dust,
Cannot recall the silken triangles elated equation
How the heated sands were sweet as stolen diamonds
To the temper of a felons touch
Seared by an alchemy like the theft of fingers
On some wild abandoned piano run
Run into evenings forever haunted bed of crimsoned shadow
Created figures from an isolated vision thirsty but to drink again
Whether purest pleasure indistinguishable from pain, play on
The stage is set with props back lit low
Cannot see where this is going now
With my mannequin bravura, afraid
To even remember just what was said . . .

Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2016-03-21 at 02:38

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by Chaucer Whethers