Free Verse # 331 (opening the gates of fire)

Come to me on my deathbed,
ask me if you’re too late,
I’ll look at you and smile,
kiss you with my last breath.

~

Photographer unkown
Photographer unknown

From the nooks of her neck
my poem draws its breath,
a bird inhaling
the expanse of the sky.

~

Forest deep,
with pine needles
inking the moonlight
into her skin,
rivers gushing womb deep,
poems like moans rolling
white unto my lips.

~

I love her with the violence
of stars being born,
with the softness of moonlight
sipped in the cup of dawn.

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Opening
the gates of fire,
against your breasts
the soft press
of poetry,
two flowering moons
shaking full of mead.

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