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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3857 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention January Storm Caballo Oscuro hear rain against my window, this is the evening I waited for, to pour cold cava into an unused glass, stand naked at this late hour, outside, facing Bayubo and the land that lies beyond, forgiving the stars their absence. The air is flowers from the eastern shore of Africa, the fizz in my glass tells my tongue this is exotica, and the night is darker than my desires, cleaner than a pink tongue-lick of a cat. Thunder echoes around the slopes of volcanoes and valley floors, electricity and some faint primeval fear makes my breath come fast and pictures slide into my mind, kisses like waves, blank spaces between the flashes of sharp edged brilliance. Such is love. My writings tonight are poured from the bottle without need for pen, the rain runs off my shoulder, trickles down my back like a lover’s gentle fingers, saying words to my skin without sound, a pure silence. The vine dances in my glass, entices me to drink and lick my lips for the memory of taste when all is empty and gone. Whatever words you say into a storm are lost, but the smile you feel is there always, as much as arms crossed to your own shoulders keep memories safe and pressed into your heart. The sky lightens and the familiar slopes appear to me again as timeless constances, and clouds form your name briefly before they look over their shoulders at me and become smoke, leaving only the sound of a bird, singing to the newborn sun. |
