- Erotic Poetry
- Three Hundred Count Percale
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Click hereIn the hollow afterward,
following our last climax, while
he showered away my undomestic scent,
I took the candle from the bedstand
and tipped threads of red wax
over my bed to remind me
in the morning that some flame,
however small, lay here.
But in the fitful night, the beads
of wax broke off, were lost,
and the remaining stain, firm set in cotton,
shone only brown as my monthly blood.
- COMMENTS
greenmountaineerabout 15 years agoI've added this to my list of favorites. An incredible amount of images flooded my mind in reading this. I loved the economy of words; nothing superfluous in my mind.
Speaking of which, who knows exactly what is in the poet's mind? However, I saw the relationship between the two lovers as mundane, routine, and reduced to metaphors to remind the poet of something that once was, but is now little more than residue, compared with another monthly routine and a passing thought of how tightly woven the bed linen is.
bflagsstabout 15 years agoI can't really pinpoint it, but there's something off that makes me not love your poem. It seems like it could be fantastic, maybe it's just the word choices.
