Terracotta  ( with JohnFeddeler )

 
Love can be seen
Within the eyes of (a) man
Reflections of autumn wind and deep
terracotta sunsets,whisper of unspoken want

If he could catch it
And squeeze it in his shaking fist
It would only crumble in his palm, slipping              
through his fingers like particulate butterfly dust

Acts that would be dirty with any other man
Are voluptuous decadence with him  
I would make wounds on him in burnished grass
If the river was khaki & the sky was umber

There are times when I can't see the pillars
Of trees or hills, clouds do not end or begin
When I am in love
I am embraced by aphasial splashes of color

My lover paints me in the abstract art of tragedy
Van Gogh’s Rhone, fostered from the blood of his dementia
My years of intolerant rains & consumptive tears
He adjures me to forget, but I cannot

He tells me to search my womanly pavilions
For the poem of my scandalous nature
My fingers travel and do not find poetry
Only his brazen kiss that liquifies between my thighs