love

Your Kiss is Jazz


Your kiss is jazz in a
dark room full of
smoky shadows
and the breeze
that blows the curtain
quiver crazy
laughter stops,
soft
my breath
tip toe, tingle, tear apart my
tattered soul
folded like
an old
newspaper, words
faded
but still
hold
the same meaning.
shredded like
t he smoky
shadows
between our
embrace
enrobed in the glow
of the street lamp.
Your kiss is jazz
in a dark room full of
smoky shadows.

Exhale

800px-Bare_Oak_TreeShe is the light in every room.
She is the shard of glass that dances across the floor
after the bulb has shattered into a million pieces,
all like her but none like her because she dances
and they only fall.
She is the open window and the curtain blowing;
she is the breeze that causes bumps to rise up on your skin
while you sleep in the middle of a naked night.
She is the bead of sweat that forms just below your nose
after the chill is gone and the twilight is torrid and tempered.
She is the morning sun that enters your eyes
when you first wake, and the first word
that pushes its delicate head through the space
between your sleepy lips. She is the inhale that follows.
I am the exhale, the emission,
absorbed into the trees.

Mantle-piece

doll

My home is by the crystal bell
on the mantle-piece.
     Ornamental treasure,
     porcelain glass. 

I am taken from the shelf
when company comes,
     proud possession, passed
     from hand to hand.

I do nothing but smile,
as there is no other way
     my painted face,
     so pretty.

When the evening is finished,
and all have gone away
     I am returned to my
     solitary pedestal.