What?
Tenderness!
Streaming from my fingers as a river
reverberating from my cheeks as a sound..!
As a warm glove coming up from my stomach
sliding on my velvet mouth to yours- to bound
Can’t stop it.
Can’t bear it.
If only I could take my eyes off from yours
I could look for some scissors
to cut this bundle of silent lies
to eradicate this little jonquil upon my nose.
Oh gone gone times when whistling was enough from my shoutin’sea
mastering from my mast « Come on, come in! »
for your hands to appear as prayers
easy, learned like a backer’s
male and obedient as Marines.
Alice Bologna
