July 25, 2014

a place to call home


strangers or lovers
light years apart
giggle into the freezer
like sun burnt children

the heat of the day
stuck in fleshy creases 
of hardly kissed
or caressed
places
like
muggy little swamps

quiero algo?

she asks
twirling his hair as if it were her own
in a way
he would never

(he likes it)

freshly squeezed orange juice?

mmhmmm

she smooths his hair back
nurturing

(he likes it)

she touches his forehead
in millimeters
fingers refining 
lightly rumpled skin
from many subtle motions

sleeping mythical creatures
reside
behind those eyes
they gallop and twirl
in colors you've never seen before
and when they laugh
the world turns another day

she untangles herself
at a snail's pace
legs against legs
kissing his eyelids closed

in the backyard
the sun: glowing gold orbs
quiver
through green leaves
she tugs oranges
from stems
citrus drenched air
heavy and hot
teeth long to bite the rind

but
will
wait

her body sways
imperceptibly

maybe she is
humming 
some lyrics 
some song

he watches her.
 
his hands, soft

tracing shapes
on clammy sheets


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