Kiss of Clay
Grace
is to love you; and whisper my heart; and such music:
Fire
beneath the bone; and I ponder mystic eyes, aloof to
Commonsense;
and speak so gentle: her ways and wiles; and
Pecan
oils, float the wind; and ocean prayers, float the sea;
And
stand this pain: a thousand tears; and what of love: to
Offer
love; and what of grace: to perish love; and needle my
Flesh:
indelible ink: it’s your name, love. So much the sand:
Neck
deep; and bury heart: a fathom sewn; and polished
Nails—adorn
beauty; and turquoise diamonds—speak the
Soul;
and search the mail, my love; and walk the rain, my
Love;
for passion burns; and ink wails; and magic words, fall
The
curb: a moment torn: a nightingale; and ladybugs: the
Grandest
wish; and butterflies: a partial smile; and fuse the
Lamp:
my mystic eyes; and cut the kite: my kiss of clay.