Sunday, December 4, 2011

Safe Keeping

your face a pulpit
words silk
out of me

teach me my ear
teeth wrapping around it

having eaten
foods of other soils

till me like earth

my mouth softer than cottons
holds your name

and time,

a skidding hash mark
black across gentle

begins to erupt
from our brows

I feel it is so

that life enters us all
in secret

no grand moment, symphonic
and gaping open

only a pleasurable morning
slung easily before

the watchtower of our want

faces pressed against
the glass, learning the pain
of color,

a prologue of hours
until we meet again

1 comment:

  1. This is an amazing poem, you're face a pulpit is a such a compact line and you end on just the right note. Also, "The watchtower of our want" has such a wonderful flow of vowels and Ws - Thanks for sharing Lucy hope your writing life is as good as it appears.