Tuesday, May 31, 2011

One summer night


To the call of a humid breeze

One pore opened and slowly

One drop of sweat formed,

Like some bitter dew

On the still paleness of your skin

Then another and another

And by some force, coalesced

Into a tiny rivulet

That flowed downhill

From the delectable valley

Towards your navel,

Moonbeams chased the drops on

Even as each follicle held it back

and I watched the night

suffer and age

In the heat

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