swing [24/30]

the winding gold is false as water

the gods running on it’s back lost as men, the paper flowers in their tiny hands

dancing in a twisted crinkle

the wine is ready for tasting, the blood seal and the map opened into rose leaves, the green and webbed tinder or moss around the fire’s lashing branches

the orbit’s glow is you, the smooth circle of love in the bending dance arcs and the spin

moves us close in the silence of heart drums and the

sparkling murmur of eyelashes meeting.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s