(c) West Singing Sands by Rose Strang
black and blue
I crave for the sweet things you whisper
and for those you don’t
for taking control
for a hand print on your warm heart.
let’s clear the road to space
from the glitter of the reigning snow outside
to the nest of kindle where we lie
a mirage of good things to come
a trace of endless mornings
I recall the silence, the gulps of breath,
the ecstatic long embrace
of the first long good morning.
a glimpse of interstellar
at the threshold of our beings
in a sojourn of wine
and leaves gravitate
towards distant turquoise seas.
I am enchanted by you
a theatrical sailor
with performances and characters
with smeared makeup and alcohol
satiated at the sight of his blue-haired muse.
coffee candies and blue lipstick
flavor my kisses
we make our way to the unseen
towards a claustrophobic hub of creation
a melting down of words
we declare our horizontal space
a nude portrayal of a lover’s gaze
traveling at the speed of light
into our first long good night.