Bow Hand*


Bow Hand

 

Speak to me in the language of cellos. Brush the kiss fluttering on my collar

Bones made of sharp starlight softened with dead time. Remember the waltz?

The shattering sky a spray of poetry whistled out the mouth of God. Holler

Mountain coffee in the cup, cinnamon dusted strawberry on my lips, Gestalt

Binaries and stimulation from early awakening upon REM sleep, I push crust

From my eyes and stretch heaven ward, then swan dive down, down, the torrid

Coast of love last found curled under my bed with a rasher of candied maple lust.

The metronome swings, tick, tock, tick, tock, measuring out, dolling out fevered

Visions stolen from sleeping doll hearts; while my head, perennially in the clouds

Languishes on my chest, a sudden dropsy of narcolepsy and I somnambulate, tip

Toes curled under as though channeling Degas graphite sketches on paper shrouds

Twisted crinolines, long legs point, feet flex, a sudden flutter, the ballerina’s hip

Scant weight against the palm of my desire. I shut the music box, silence concordant

With chandelier spattered light and the remembrance of you, my heart now dormant.

 

 

*Listening to Bach Cello Suite #5 in C Minor performed by Edgar Meyer

 

Advertisements

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: