Between My Legs
his tongue makes the wet signs
that mark me as his
and he lifts me to his mouth
until my arms have nothing
to hold other than the measure
of a wingspan across the pillows
he closes his eyes and hums there
for me in the dark
singing of voices we’ll never hear
and a moon too young to see
and when he tastes deeper
for the salt and grief of me
he takes from my throat the cries
a woman can only make
when she becomes a great dark bird
racing upward through bronze trees
dreaming of light, dancing
along her very own curve of earth
Photo Credit: China Hamilton
Magnificently beautiful…
~EA
EA,
My goodness, those are big words! Thank you. Welcome to my little place. I hope you enjoy it.
I’ve enjoyed your poetry and look forward to reading more.
WriterD,
Thank you. And welcome.
Gorgeous, balanced and carefully, delicately made.