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deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Sun Is Brown
( a spill and scrub )
The sun is brown
Brown
as black butter
It rises
more than once
the same day
The second time
melting
Drips its warmth
on my
upturned face
with eyes
closed
So other senses
may delight
and
embrace
As hands of my
Lover
cup young pears
from behind
Slowly entering
to my roots
While rivulets of
black butter
snake
down every curve
Tasting
Image: A line drawing by me, Jade, using an application from my Notes from my iPhone SE. Drawn with the tip of my left index finger. The first results from wanting an image for this poem. I’m loving it.
The sun is brown
Brown
as black butter
It rises
more than once
the same day
The second time
melting
Drips its warmth
on my
upturned face
with eyes
closed
So other senses
may delight
and
embrace
As hands of my
Lover
cup young pears
from behind
Slowly entering
to my roots
While rivulets of
black butter
snake
down every curve
Tasting
Image: A line drawing by me, Jade, using an application from my Notes from my iPhone SE. Drawn with the tip of my left index finger. The first results from wanting an image for this poem. I’m loving it.
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