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icehouse


The Ice Cutters,1911,Natalia Goncharova

dial me up 

darling

warm me
with stories 
spoken 
red hot

in your mother tongue

every word

a pearl

a flight path
 
strung out
 
and held over

flickers of desire

i close my eyes

slowly melting 
sinking
into your words

i let go

then glide

© 2013-Rene

Comments

  1. Oh yes, I am gliding through the joy too! Nice poem!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yes, that. I wish I had written it, damn you. Don't stop writing stuff like this one.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Damn, this is sexy. Nicely done Rene. HAPPY CHRISTMAS! Indigo x

    ReplyDelete

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