Game of Words and Flesh

You are counting my gasps with your lips. I can’t see you, but my skin (and deeper things) can feel every breath your want is tracing over my breast and ribs and hip. “Am I getting warmer?” you say. And your words arch my back because warm burst into flames a mouthful of well-versed licks ago.

I’ve hidden kisses
between my poems and flesh.
Want them? Come… and seek.

 

the wee notes…
– over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, our dearest Rommy asked us “to write a poem that incorporates the idea of a child’s game.” So, I chose to poetize some Hide and Seek.
– I rarely use capitalization in my senryū/haiku, but it felt right for this one.


Sea of Feelings”, by Leonid Afremov

To Warm Me

She is a monster waiting to swallow the world. Really. Look at her (maw at the ready, lips as sharp as blades) waiting to bloom into something bright and beautiful that promises to take your breath away. Fine, so she will keep you from breathing by being all stunning and stuff, but your brain will still starve for air… um, I might’ve taken this metaphor a bit too far *cough*.
Anyhoo, from this angle, doesn’t my amaryllis look like a glorious monster about to swallow something whole? At first, I wondered if she was working with Cthulhu, but… no tentacles. So, she’s probably a free (freaky) agent.

Yes, my Wicked Luvs, you are correct. This is how my plants and I survive winter (and those long…….. periods between recovering/healing and more medical procedures to come—we birth tales, giggle and cackle at wondrous (if silly) things. All right, I tell the tales. But my plants are great listeners.

to warm me and mine,
I (will) spring stories
out of snow in March

in my urban woods,
limbs stiff but spread wide, I wait
for the kiss of spring