Ripe as scarlet

the morning is a faded water-
          color, silent as ivory   

keys,  we swim into    
          until we tasted undercurrents 

ripe as scarlet verses,  sliding
          exquisitely down our bellies-   

the tides peel our skin 
          moist as tenderness-

no word is colorless 
          in your eyes, cadence is you

kissing me slowly, like Sun-
          day morning,  the sweetest candle-

slide your hands beneath me ,  
          liquid is sky,   everything is a seed-

this is how we make 
         our memory

in river’s aria,
         jettisoning into the wild cosmos, the rush 

cradling us - 
        a birthing, or a dying of familiar things -     

but oh, don't let me forget
        this moment -

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub:  Putting synesthesia in Poetry - There is a neurological condition called synesthesia in which the patient confuses sensation. For example, he may taste a fragrance, or hear a flower. Have you ever touched a rainbow or seen a toccata?  In poetry, synesthesia refers specifically to figurative language that includes a mixing of senses.

picture credit:  tumblr.com