Cursive Consolations

Cursive Consolations David J Walker Heartlessly pressing words into wine Our feet are blood red from the crushing Our heads flowing in faint rhymes Into dry riverbeds genially growing An ocean of poetry waiting Waves bathe the salted bathers On white beaches lying Side by side naked in the sand Sunning themselves in the afternoon Toweling themselves of pungent prose After the sun rose the following morning I remember the rhyme one will say to another Who has fallen deep into a sleep of poetic meaning Are you listening one says No, I’m dreaming he replays as starfish cover his eyes Creating cursive consolations