the man in the moon 4.26

I try to believe
that your never uttered words
are the crescent moon

with negative space
closepacked with rocks and water
hidden, trapped inside

depths of the mantle
even though it is often
unaccessible

the smile of the man
in the moon is a cold one
lighting night pathways

but never bringing any
warmth to bask upon your skin

Audio: my personal meteor shower

Adding an audio file ala Johnny Crabcakes style …

Issues with this posting, so I dropped it into SoundCloud.

https://soundcloud.com/mimsy-farquhar/my-personal-meteor-shower

connecting dots

dawn slips through open

window blinds, painting stripes on

your sunburned shoulder

.

skin warm against me

I trace the shadowed outlines

of your collarbone

.

before gliding down

shallow valley of your spine

skin raised in goosebumps

.

fingertips lightly

drawing Cassiopeia

along your hip’s curve

.

your freckled constellations

the North Star guiding me home

silver and gold

bare shoulder bathed

in the waning golden sunlight

you turn towards me

.

I’m blinded by the

sun, your smile, as my face tips

upward for a kiss

.

your arm anchoring

me to you, rocking on waves

of each sleeping breath

.

eyelashes casting

lengthy shadows across your

cheek, all tips painted

silver from the gibbous moon

hanging in our sky tonight

On you, being my singularity

scientists have said
black holes exist within our
universe, where time

independently
coexists and gravity
absconds with all light.

early morning, your
skin so luminous, my heart
slows time between beats;

vision narrowing
to the darkness of your eyes –
I am hurdling the

event horizon,
forever falling into you

Johnny Crabcakes “Moon bones” Inspired by something in that first stanza…not sure exactly what, but his poem is WELL worth reading!

PS I know the last line is too many syllables. Oh well. 🙂 I didn’t like it the other way that fit. LOL

anticipation of dinner

You feed me slices
of melon and proscuitto,
brushing fingertips

incidentally
over open, awaiting
burgundy stained lips:

a bit of goat cheese,
sip of chardonnay, morsel
of artichoke heart.

Transfixed, I watch as
the silver fork slips into
your receptive mouth-

antipasto seduction,
eyes feasting on you.

Attempting haiku sonnets – a form brought to my attention by Johnny Crabcakes on this post  and  started by David Marshall.