like recalcitrant remnants of an old soul
the rocks of chalkidiki sway in the froth of the sea
their chappedeggshell surfaces press
into the delicate skin of my inner arms
and the backs of my salty knees
sagacious old bones arching up out of the placid blue
exposing their marrow in the pallidpools of morning
I walk barefootsun on my back
the great pores in the stone
worn away by the insistency of wind and water
suck on my fingertips and cradle the arches of my feet
to pull me up atop their cresting permenancy
to hover over the quivering surface of beryl
the rocks envelop my silences in all of their
negative spaces, crowded with sensual heroism
and their blissful compromise
with the schemingshifting sea
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment