Moonlight on portico

Who invented the potato chip,
Taking note of the way,
Flickering video light pushes,
Over moving flesh,
And empty crisp bags and bits of popcorn,

And buttered fingers,
Moans, and buttered tongues,
And wine glasses smothered with frantic lip marks,

Over car keys,
(Both sets),
And wallets in the kitchen,
And handbags down the corridor,

Over carpet,
And high-heeled shoes,
Jackknifed in the corner,

Over desperate thighs,
Over scattered chips,

Who,
Allowed you to roam the cosmos naked?

I am water on Mars.
The light is blue against my skin.

I am a four-armed God, and

The silver moonlight runs alabaster down my black legs,
Wide on my white hands.

If you look for me you will find me;
My feet are broad and flat.

-short evocative poetry-

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Published in: on September 10, 2015 at 11:33  Leave a Comment  
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