Night wakens on cold water
Oily with languor
Her eyes, unfocused coals
As a young horse will strain against capture
She fills her mouth with light, and swallows deep
Last threaded lines of dusk, bow humble in retreat
Smudging purples, as lovers tracing whetted lips
Soon; only a cross stitched outline of prior deeds
Resting their memory against the cleaving hush of dark
Then find in this warm reduction, an escape
Brushing noice from your plump, seeking cheeks
When you dive into ink, your wings inherit a black rainbow
Fingers working like a lyrist, searching for that one stroke
In the plucked seed of a moment; the ancient tree gives birth
And all around, rise forests of ebony feathers, claiming their plumage
Urging to fly and send the moon on her sommulent arc
A peal of diminishing thread, echoing besotted, trailing stars
It’s not just humans who live and die by obsessions lyre
Even voiceless night birds dream of silver; even thorns long to pierce
The tender spot beneath her warm, ruddy, wild ventricle.
5 Replies to “Madder root”
Absolutely Gorgeous. Filled with inky moon and Eros.
The poet surfaces
Emerges from deep
Dive to inky swim
Trailing foot prints
Of words on page
Gorgeous imagery from start to finish
Sensual writing, well done.
“When you dive into ink, your wings inherit a black rainbow” is an astounding line! 🖤
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