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Click hereWhen I part the curtains,
her indigo jeans still hang
on the clothesline, legs spread
as I remember her last evening.
We listened to Mozart
and drank red wine.
Later, sprawled over the bed,
I played with her, with that soft part of her
that I can't say. Can't name.
Speech is not everything.
Confined in silence, yet could I
there speak my piece in tongues.
This is absolute perfection. Subtle and evocative. Made me close my eyes and exhale. And then read it again. And again. Very, very lovely.
This one I'll come back to again and again. It's got under my skin. (I'm bummed though - I hit a 4 instead of a 5 as I meant to do... really sorry!)
Evocative, erotic, many-layered even in its brevity, witty, wonderful.