Friday, December 9, 2011

Fallen Angel

is how they found you
mouth full of brambles
the rub of matches
against your knuckles
with rocks pillowing your limbs
in the blind tangle
of falling.
hate is a dirty bruise
left at your temples
the crucifixion of words
pressed like stones
into your wounds
where blind awe
runs deep like blood.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011


The feel of you -
apple tart and wet
where we rolled in fresh cut grass,
and traced rain on leaves
and each other.
You taste like what I wanted
but couldn't ask for
and the poetry of your bones
blooms warm and wild
in the bright eclipse of clean.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Chance Meeting

It starts at lunch -
cold white wine that
tastes like spring
and loosens tongues
and leads to a brush
of skin that lingers,
and lengthens into an afternoon
where your hair tumbles down
and your smile
curls into kisses
while our bodies lurch
in unexpected collision
and my fingers fumble
over tight little buttons -
the impatient heave of fabric
parting skirt from shirt
as your back molds to my hands,
your hips a deliberate tease
pivoted against my own.
your breath hitches - a hot little sigh
fanning my cheek,
urging me to discover and explore
a world spread against my fingertips
impatient to be conquered.

Sunday, December 4, 2011


Creeping into my bed at dawn,
the orbit between your thighs
pinions my hips
like a saddle.
Soft, supple leather,
tooled and worked,
sliding down on me
in greedy gasps
of damp skin
and dark secrets
that leave scars.
My fingers tear into you
and unfold your heat
, fine tuning the friction of our skin,
rubbed raw
against the silk sheets.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Private Music

I want to explore
the whys, wheres and whats
of your body.
I want to taste them ripple
like silver
and bee stung roses
under my tongue,
piquing a sharp taste for more.
I want to feel heat rise in your cheeks
and spread over your breasts,
lazy notes
rolling down the sweet cleft of your thighs,
arching under your hips
and spreading in an fan under me.
I want to pluck mysteries
from the wisps of silk
that cling to warm skin,
and gently tear away secrets
curled under the sheets
that run against my body
in a soft riot of your music.
I want to play you,
run you out
and unstring you
note by note,
treble and gentle drum roll

and rattle this night drenched world...