Spoons.

The long-legged man I create with my fingers

walks down the grassy lane of your speckled egg arm.

Reaching your rock I win the game and

suffocate your hardness like a gift.

This rock could smash through the bones, veins

and tendons of this open sheet of paper

that moulds your fist like pastry.

There are lines written all over it.

The lines are divine, telling me how long

I will live,

how many children I will have

and how many times my heart will be broken.

I look to your closed book,

denying the divinity, clenched and solid

with no room to enter.

The long-legged man dawdles casually

over to the soft pink button on your breast.

He is swiped away by a swooping bat,

nocturnal and impatient for peace and sleep.

Scampering to safety, my hand hides

stroking gently down your side,

biding my time before sneaking to the cave

between your thighs.

Poseidon’s solid waves heave higher and

crash together, crushing this sailor

who concedes failure and defeat with his white flag.

Your body is dangerous

but safety is always found as I spoon against

the soft tenderness of your back.

Advertisements

One response to “Spoons.

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