Besides Poetry
Hands.oiled heels of palms
pulse pushing upward
thumbs kneading on both sides of spine
you lay face down
In warmth
Feeling them spread
To ripple across shoulder blades
Then fingers clutch and knead
in almost individual circles
crisscrossing and working down
To small of back
The process is repeated
as soft music thrums
in constant rhythm
How else to tell you?
The knife spreads the colours
In concentric circular patterns
Interacting with the darkness
Creating depths stretched canvas cannot
Causing three or is it four points of infinity?
Making the watcher's eyes
crisscross and work in
the flows of creation
How else to tell you ?
Hands clench as tightly closed eyes
search through twisting colours
The chest contracts as shoulders tighten
Then all falls loose
Space bends time
Tunnels untwist in glass clear mirrored
Relaxation
Freed and soaring through finity
reaching to caress through convoluted tendrils
Of Hope and Tenderness
How else to tell you
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2008
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