She smiles like fire
staring from above the clouds
When the sun slips between
her sweating legs,piloted by my tongue
The roof blindfolded with aprons
of a deaf mistress speaking to my taste
moves slowly,like snow
ambling over water
I grab avenues from the air
and hide them behind her head
resting upon which
is the tremolo of near death
She believes this is as far
life will let us be,
In the dark, her white bodice
is the burning shadow of my underskin
There is this murmur that elevates
dirt from the floor
like magnetic doornails
perforating through a metallic draught
To all graves of our antiquity
with a mouthful of the mortal earth
i kiss goodbye,i kiss goodbye
My how I was ping-ponged around in this poem. Woman, city, woman, city, or something else entirely. "She" was and is a mystery. But in the end, wrong or right, I saw you on a balcony, plucking from a waning light, all you desired to capture in this portrait. Brush dipping over and over again in whiskey. It was gorgeous! The best painters can capture light closely, but never as perfectly as nature herself. But you came damn close here. Damn close. perhaps not so much light as light, but light as effect, and love. Funny, how I just read it again and thought "there may have been no light at all", but that's all I saw.
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