Moth
You are suited for the night –
the thought of it welded in the limb,
a law with love asleep, turning over in the moon’s embrace.
I see you scale the wall with my tiger heart –
grip things incessantly with your dust filled mouth
and you frighten me without pretence; show me what it is to be
the victim of a woman –
my arching sob tilted into the tide...
the tide, the tide, the tide.... I hear it in your thighs,
rough, the move of a curtain,
a cling of you – something closer
I could not imagine.
Perhaps when I amuse, with my candles,
with my flick of light –
you would appear less so;
naked. The beat of you is ready in my chest -
your shadow fit, a tickle of hair
upon my shoulder.
You have moved.
You have moved me
to a grave of silken despair –
claws of white heat, sweat thick
and cold I close you in.
You have moved.
You have moved.
I cannot bear to lose you again,
your wing and every breath -
I hear you whimper softly,
I hear you;
a touch of death,
a gull
in the faraway lands.
Marianne Louise Daniels
Fri 31st Aug 2012 15:06
Thank you for your time and comments guys. x