Fever

 

Sky grumbles

palms febrile

 

shudder,

 

shiver storm’s

fever.

 

I’ve washed up

on the cliff

 

of you:

 

body curves

dark yearnings.

 

You’re in love

with the love

 

of it;

 

agitated

like the wind

 

your eyes

seek salvation.

 

We ebb & flow

caught in the

 

cross current;

 

I’m unwilling

to drown,

 

but you

stretch out

 

on the wave’s

crest

 

strike out

for the deep

 

dark depths

 

content to

curl up

 

in the furl

of unseen

 

siren’s locket.

 

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.