SHE KEEPS SHEEP BY MOONLIGHT

{For Dianne}

Siberian squill flood up to the sill,
Feather-tipped, blue-veined bells.
The nectaries of Hellebores tonight are hid,
Downcast violet and olive peplum shells.

Sheathed in moon-stained yellow charmeuse,
Albatrossed with seeded strands of pearls,
She stands stock still, a prisoner of the window.
The single slip of periwinkle crepe~~
The Aerogramme~~troubles her hands.

She traces again the slight scratch,
The little stitches of black script,
The nimble loops so quickly slipped
And pulled so unmistakably masculine,
As knotted swards of silk tie weeds
Clumped in drifts on a papery blue sea.

The sharp tang of iron and sulfur
Rises from the bath and stings her tongue.
From the crook of her small nib
She would billow out on vellum to him~~
Cattleya and pomegranate,
Jasmine and attar,
A seductive quelling finger to his lips,
A slurring opalescent lullaby.

In the morning she dreams
Under a hazy circle of midges and sedges.
The shrill tocks will come
And the sun will crash off bevels.
Will the honeysuckle still twist and rise
So sweetly? Will the warbler sing?
Or has all been lost, torn down &
drowned in the wreck of the night?



~~~~~~~

Forest Hill

As no one’s mother,
Being wife to none either,
My stone is silent.



~~~~~~~~~

please say yes

tobacco and toffee
inch in kisses, softly
across my dappled maple floor.

sweet cherry syrup drips
luridly from your dear, parted lips,
slipped through salty laces.

chloroformed by your charming sleeve
I drop flat, pressed into a folded seam
that flaps in places, still fluttering.

to your flint rock I’m pinned,
drinking in formaldehyde again,
longing to fix

this moment, this precious
delirium, elusive, senseless,
in perpetuity.

somewhere, on a coast, perhaps, we breathe,
grey-green pebbles washed over and over that shush and seethe,
shining desire that rushes in and out in waves,
in tumbles,
drawn thrilling
tripping,
trilling endlessly.




~~~~~~~~~~~

Carte Blanche

This poem has been submitted for publication.  Thanks for reading and commenting.

Bird in a Box

This poem has been submitted for publication and, therefore, has been pulled from my blog.