Monday, April 11, 2011


when the piano played
each note’s fingers
would curl around
the throat of another
a delicious asphyxiation
tingling in the loins
as sweat pops
in gorgeous glass baubles
sparkling on skin
chest falling
pulse surging
sweeping light and dark
with the tempo

the melody
receives him
stabbing staccato
where he gasps
to be touched

             the denouement
a tear
             the silence
empty hands
and a petal’s fall


Shadow said...

very sensual!

Shadow said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Aine said...

Ah, spring! Sweet throbbing music and Beltane frivolity. I'm so happy to say goodbye to the long, cold winter.

Lee said...

Exquisite ~.

SzélsőFa said...

how poetic!
April 11* is Poetry Day in Hungary, when readings, reader-author meetings are held throughout the country.
it is a good poem to celebrate Poetry Day.

*=according to the birthday of József Attila, a famous Hungarian poet, early XX. century

February Grace said...



Vesper said...

Yes, it tells of the passion... and maybe the petal is our soul... Beautiful... and the photo is matched perfectly.

Anonymous said...

Shadow, :)

Aine, thanks for joining with me to welcome the season!! ;)

Lee, many thanks!

Szelsofa, I like that thought. Maybe I was channeling my Hungarian heritage!

Bru, I hope you're doing well!

Vesper, yes, that petal reaches out. I think you're right to trace its fall.

G said...

Again another amazing capture of life

Aine said...

My pleasure, as always... ;)

Anonymous said...

Stephanie, many thanks!

Aine, !!!