Run between rain
drops painted on a black-washed
canvas, the asphalt lover lying like a new
born wrapped in a widowed mother's
arms. Her peach sunken ocean, a sex
grenade counting Father Times own ticks,
rhythms jilt with each sinuous limb, unfolding
one joint at a time to the dance of seven
deadly sturrup sins. Here, evidence spreads
naked, a surfacing mold binds. There, merci-
less tide, ship wrecked cargo drained of child.
Two-boned stems master gravity, an upright
mechanical creation.Wet satin grabs at her bare
silk inseams, tears at her bust. A trick window
hands out dewy hand for clamy hand, tugs
silk inseams, tears at her bust. A trick window
hands out dewy hand for clamy hand, tugs
the collar close. Thick, hot wind whispers
in her ear, inertia's mouth spread wide-
cement filled. The sun's legs sting her back,
innocently digging for a place to nestle
in the contours of a curving abstraction.
A dark body hovers infront: looks blindly,
staring up, eyes pealed, waiting for direction.
staring up, eyes pealed, waiting for direction.
What I like about this verse is the wonderful and diverse use of imagrey and language. You artfully matched the proper word to the image that best suits it, this creates such a symphony of image that really comes alive on the page and is a great joy for the reader. Also I like the sexual tone that the verse takes points, that's a very brave choice and you handled it well. If I were to afford any criticism it would be that perhaps the work could use another round of condensing, I felt myself becoming lost at some points but thats only a minor issue. At any rate well done dear.
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