Poems, Prose, Photos & the Art of Being Human
SATSUMA
Crescents of tangerine cool nipples
that purse like lips as
O of navel grips its slice &
taut shiny glans raises its
section to the sun, hot through
blue-green leaves of eucalyptus;
tongue slides between citrus & skin
belly arcs smooth,
teeth release juice bursting
through this moist cavern,
tongue, lapping in slow pulses,
swallows, wet open flames.
Thank you to the editors of HOT FLASHES:
sexy little stories and poems for publishing
this poem.
IF NOT FOR SILENCE
In their mad Sufi dance words whirl off tongues
loose as hot snakes as we struggle to speak with rudiments—
mostly we quarrel, walk away, but sometimes manage
to weave them like a lovers’ embrace beneath that open-voweled moon,
which vacillates between the startled suck of air through pursed lips
and a night so long that, shy, she slips beyond the sun’s unerring watch.
Words electrify nerves till air feels like a panther lapping our luminous skin,
but it is silence that exposes our fiery hearts to serpentine tongues,
silence that would strip our marrow if not for the pulsing muteness
of flesh kneading flesh, of snakes and stars and moon-shackled seas.
Thank you to the editors of HOT FLASHES 2 for first publishing this poem.
MASKS OF CARDINAL FEATHERS
Drape
Me in
Crimson rOse petals,
garnets,
coraL,
RuBies
and feed me
dragon's Blood,
cherries,
straWberries,
plums,
salmon,
meRlot
then make me
glow,
flush,
blush,
BlooM
till I'm
Rubeous,
carneLian,
verMilioN
as ScarLet hummingbirds
SOAR from our
Mad
voRacious
heartS.
Thank you to the editor of Absinthe Revival for first publishing this poem.
MASKS OF CARDINAL FEATHERS
Drape
Me in
Crimson rOse petals,
garnets,
coral,
Rubies,
and feed me
dragon's Blood,
cherries,
straWberries,
plums,
salmon,
meRlot,
then make me
glow,
flush,
blush,
BlooM
till I'm
Rubeous,
carnLian,
verMilioN,
as ScarLet hummingbirds
SOAR from our
Mad
voRacious
heartS.
Thank you to the editor of Absinthe Revival for first publishing this poem.
Elizabeth Oakley Weaver 