Venus

you are looking at me

beyond messy hair 
beyond my crooked nose 
beyond scars, nicks & lines  
beyond my smudged fingernails
beyond lack, trying to fill, almost 
beyond my dry kisses
beyond tongue & spit
beyond my claws & rages
beyond light apologies & heavy silence
beyond these hands, which sometimes forget you
beyond my waistline
beyond moods & unpredictable demands 
beyond my legs 
beyond unpolished, grime & vomit
beyond my cheeks  
beyond sparkle, skin & guts
beyond my history

you are looking at me

and i feel beautiful  

Venus by Artist:   Walasse Ting (1980)

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight ~ Thanks for the visit ~

grapeling with words

you find

            your words are fire

            without flint or wind

            but with fury & shrill of the night

            how your words growl

            at the touch of another’s urge

            making your skin itch, surfacing nose

you find

             your words are water

             to the curious brow & sweet lips

             striking a cadence undeniably yours like a

             forgotten heartbeat

             your words have colors

             unfactored:   still-born moon, tender-lit sky, dark-grit storm  

             shading your heart, now spilling your guts

you find

            though you can make words

            disappear quickly

            as summer fireflies

            how they slice you open

            blue & shaken

            vulnerable as a root-

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Get Listed:  The Grapeling Way

picture credit:  here

What we'll tell the moon

the moon rises from the waters-
   full-shaped, dark lilac scented-
   perfect chalice on our lips

the moon lies perfectly still
   tightly curled as spring buds -
   our fingertips taste the dew like bees-      

the moon peals away the pretense
    & careful neat choices- we lean in
    as mirrors do:   
    cheek to cheek, hip to hip arching-

the moon cleaves this night to two -
   one to savor as delicate wine-
   then to rage like storm split sky

the moon bears the sum of us-
    crest & fall of tide, swallowing each season
    like oysters-   
    so why do we keep slipping through the slits-

the moon leaps between us
   fickle yellow as cut summer blooms,
   wilting in the climbing celsuis –

the moon rains our faces-
    steady as a birthing star-
    until we tilt, parallel axis, towards the morning-


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Anaphora poems -Thanks for the visit ~