fail polish eagles
you were seven when she leapt into the great yawning chasm
a gentle whirlpool discerned the sadness
it washed around you like the fabric of rocks
the air warm and thick with moisture from butterflies
you rose in bubbles without water-boundness
pressed in hot sand
they followed the scent of sunburn
they used bath towels for the hunt
another pouch of flesh pinned to the darkening sky
then he released your hand
cloud cover allowed glimpses of lovemaking
bodies swirling particles of fog and air
raindrops of blood and come
the same mingled pain
sweeping gently the clouds
clamped tight shut
in bashful eyes
butterflies, while he held the door open, went cold.
"real nervous, huh?"
that while this was the
first time she had ever
been nude in public, she
now her face was childlike, her eyes afraid.
just as islands in the sea are often
born amidst fire and violence, so was
the room prepared to do whatever
violence to her feelings was necessary.
her mouth moved; she almost said it.
something nearly smothered inside
hearing the words. it's okay