Living the Dream

I.

a fog moving over an ocean spit,

like a woman laying a blanket

over a sleeping child,

a napping lover,

the face of her dead mother

holy movement

that kind of silence

II.

sun rising, over curled eyelash

of a half-awake horizon,

like a silk blanket

sliding over your skin

as you rise;  like sigh in slip

from bed so as not to stir

morning’s dust resting

on the sill

that kind of silence

III.

snowflake dance stopped

by questing tongue;

a kiss stolen suddenly

in the end of drawn breath

ready to swipe as sword,

muted by tip and lip

that kind of silence

IV.

power of a strobing star,

set as cross above a pinion pine

when moon has drawn her curtain

for her absolutions;

a woman’s sink into scented water,

and feels his skin

that kind of silence.

© Carol Desjarlais

Tags: That Kind Of Real //