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
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