:::by benne:::

The skin slips down from the heel
Brushed roughly away by the pumice
Shed only to be grown again
And hardened by the touch of concrete
Sharp against bare feet

The lash drifts down to the cheek
A fairy kiss, running from the mascara
Shed, only to be grown again
And lacquered under layers of black stuff
Stiff, thick, shiny, buff

I lie in the bath of salt
Heavy and light all at once, seeking meditation
The masseuse rubs my shoulders
And pushes a towel through my hair
My fingers trail in air

The sky grows dark purple and deep
Scudding clouds hint silver at the moon
The earth takes a breath in, then exhales
And dawn makes its first reddish yawn
So raw, clouds y and torn

"The pure ablution of earth�s human shores"
Sex as a little , then re-awakening
Those first pure moments post-coital
When all is revealed in a fresh view
Verdant, fertile, made new

<< 2003-01-02 @ 11:49 a.m. >>

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