Longing

in Palnet3 years ago

Let us pull off the masque,
the tango of winds calls me to their merciless.

These wounds will heal gently
if you hold my skin tender like old parchment.

The worms are pink with hunger
so the rain can fall.

What will the clouds tell the puddle
green with envy?

Let us be the ruffled curtain
eavesdropping the moon.

Let us collapse the sun on the bed sheet
like ripe mangoes.

This your body is a cross that you must carry.
It is the pleasure that the world abhors.

We are carrion in the jaws of life
so let us be rotten with the love we have.

What have you sung, songbird?
What have you killed in this wild morning?

The wide mouth of our affair is on the radio
so that mothers can have an occupation

for their tongue long used to silence.
Who hears us in the night

should know that the music of our bodies
is a desperate longing.


siblings-862967_1280.jpg
image credit: pixabay


Yours always,
Osahon (warpedpoetic)