tagErotic PoetryThird World

Third World


What is this strange new light
That seeps across the hills tonight
And settles on the window sills
So bright it threatens even the icicles
New glass with its unspeakable delight?

Up in the distance I can hear
The sound of angry mares
Bucking, nipping cruelly at each other's ears
And slashing stars out of the dark
And purple body of the bear
With tails of hairs as strong as wire
As soft as silk
Thrashing light droplets into milk

There is motion deep within the rocks
As somewhere round the heavy earth
A painted woman plaits her oil-black locks
And strokes her magpie's back
Making him gently pluck the nuts of corn
From the hammock of her leather skirts
Between her foothill thighs
Her eyes are smoky with the drug
She sucks from her pomegranate fist

Why when this moon-woman winks
Do I wince and shy
Like a half grown cat
And hide my green-eyed glance
Twisting away from her forward gaze
And why
When I see her look inside my skin
from behind the eyes of my innocent love
And lick her lips
And twist the hem of her skirt in her lap
Do I sway
One part caught on fire with love
One part mixed with fear I will die
Falling down the clouds across the darkening skies
Blind to any call but hers
As I fill my mouth with the glowing egg of desire

Over in the courtyard the monkeys prance and scream
Snatching at each other's tails
Showing purple gums above their fangs
Lifting lean haunches in quivering invitation

The moonlight pours its cream into doorways
The fretwork, the punctuated screens
Make shadow plays of Krishna and the cow maids
Way off beyond the silt filled river
a small drum sputters and pops

Nice men with neckties don't court this goddess
Kneeling in their suits with sunburned necks
Even teenage spiderwomen are cool by comparison
No, this is diving into the uncut stuff
A danger of being transmuted
The flesh and bone no longer masked
By silica and nylon--linen and steel
No longer a being entirely of artifice
Pinned together from tax forms and hamburger wrappers

Now the soul glows in the firelight
Music is as tangible as the dust raised by leaping feet
The reasoned words which shape our minds
As likely as not to be caught by a sudden gust
And lifted like a flock of parrots
Astonished into the moonlight

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byLargoKitt© 1 comments/ 3442 views/ 0 favorites

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