P O E T I C --- P A I N T I N G S

"Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen" -- da Vinci

To write poetry, you must read and, read some more -- Me

Mar 3, 2009

and so... by Deborah White

I wait for this evening
then I will blanket
you with my flesh;

and remove each breast
to tuck under you,
one under your head,
another stuffed under your feet,

to make you comfortable
as you absorb the moon's
push and pull
pull and push

Much later within
blindness of sky

I will crack open my rib cage
remove my heart
place it upon
the nightstand
then you can watch its walls

thump thump,
as it morphs to predominant blue;

(not pretty periwinkle
or poetic indigo)

insidious blue,
the color slovenly
hovering over ash’s hue.

and so,
I will wait--

till then

for your consumation
with this peeve that's
taken over me;

night within night,
night within day,

perversion's permeation

again and again. . .

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