like a Gypsy, fluttering!
your colorful fans.
Wildly giving your body
to the currents of the earth:
Twisting! Turning! Throwing!
your breast to the sun.
A shining beacon!
You're a prick of light.
you become the symbol of freedom,
in climax, as your dance
realizes: eternal ecstasy!
A cry of "Summer Forever!"
at least for a while.
Alive through your sweetened blood,
We become
alive in your sweetened blood.
I'm going to use this as my poem number 8, because it's something I'd like to keep working on.
ReplyDeleteGood for you! It is full of possibilities : )
ReplyDelete