Sunday, November 22, 2015

POEM: "Summer Crept Silently To Rest"

"Summer Crept Silently To Rest"

Of the body, the belly, both the legs
That get in first, then the dick, the balls
Follow (she's away, but nothing happened)
The hot head is sort of a problem, actually
It’s a big problem, it’s such a Spanish night
The fincas and the ferias, her lustrous hair
Under imaginary stars and the flamenco
Relax the breathing, start thinking of rain
Like the next holy day that is waiting for

Those crystal palaces riding high in the sky
But no, because you see the waves emerging
Out of the moon's eye and turn over again.

© 2015 Rob Schackne

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