No Last Mornings

Nearest horizons
catch a spring morning’s sun last:
minstrel’s singing fades.
⠀⠀⠀Stay, my lover, in shadows
⠀⠀⠀thrown over our embracing.

Chickadees stirring
to a distant reveille
crisp a waking breath.
⠀⠀⠀Roll over in my shirt’s nest
⠀⠀⠀and I’ll do your back again.

Venus commands dawn
flashing painted fingernails—
her tongue tastes hot blood.
⠀⠀⠀We’ll lose count and forget where
⠀⠀⠀your moments start at mine’s end.

Sweet almond syrup
drizzled over buttered toast:
perfumed petals drift.
⠀⠀⠀Magic makes time wait on us
⠀⠀⠀to break our passion’s fasting.

Coffee aroma
infiltrates sleepy corners.
Dark shrinks into dim.
⠀⠀⠀Let’s remember lying here
⠀⠀⠀forgetting ever leaving.

Ruby windowsill
crawling down our western wall—
soft skin teasing bone.
⠀⠀⠀Why must we so soon give up
⠀⠀⠀our night to one another?

Dawn bares a nipple
to newly born dew babies.
Yawns linger nearby.
⠀⠀⠀What day did we have scheduled
⠀⠀⠀that can’t be put off an hour?

Overnight showers
hang on until shaken off.
Tangy spices melt.
⠀⠀⠀Trust our makeshift bed to hold
⠀⠀⠀these kisses for safekeeping.

 


 
 

by sara and david,
with the others in turn

 
 

background notes — heptahedral

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