- Erotic Poetry
- Crash
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The antique lamp that used
to belong to mother--
four generations, she’d lament--
crashes against pine floorboards,
crystal shards scattering
amidst the dust and the dander
of an ancient Pekinese;
fluff long shuffled
from nook to cranny.
The pounding slows, the
rhythmic clicking
of the fan sharpens,
teetering and rollicking
against the ceiling in fitful mockery
of our sudden silence.
A tender-cruel smile
steals below
worn cotton sheets,
returning to wander
against the heat
of quivering flesh.
- COMMENTS
Tathagataover 16 years ago....shuffled, fluff."
I love the sound of that whole verse.
The ending was wonderful, took me to a place I'd never considered and made me smile.
Nice work
