My Poetry

Halfway on the curve of your waist Rhymes become audible Climbing your pelvis Rhythms suffer Falling from your hips Syllables dream of feathers In the heat between your thighs Metaphors melt Crawling down your legs Verses laugh like lunatics In the moist folds behind your knees Punctuations swim Grasping a purple vein Words descend to your feet Between your toes Becoming a river My poetry flows to dust Notwithstanding the magical commotion What precedes the fireworks I dare not write If I do Earth will be in flames