deepundergroundpoetry.com

Puppetress

She turned her face to the summer sky
Sudden, how birds don't fly
Instead they hung from her humid strands
as she danced them, with her hands

Her hair curled on her heated brow
like crow wings in a feathered frown
Her face upturned in lit white gold
Her eyes, eyes!, were lightning bolts

She traced her shape with beams of sun
Cut her clothes, as the shadows run
And white, so white her chest
As if so new, as if just left
-There, by God, his second guess
To tease the sun and make it press
it's own cheek, to her breast

Hips side turned, her lines will blend
A tan replaces where my mouth has been
Thighs will golden, by lips made pink
where I kissed her, at the brink
-From where she thirsts, and thus I drink

She drew me close, made me swear
to tie my fingers in her hair
And whisper with kisses, one by one
as I fell atop her, so undone

She held a string, so surely then
from head to heart and back again
I need not hold tight, I fell aside
for we were now so ever tied
From head to heart
From hers to mine
Come sun, then storm
Come rain, to shine

Smiled, she closed her eyes
-spent, satisfied
And the birds in trance
again flew by
For they have lost, and must fly
away, as I lay
by her side.

~~~