Port of Iraklio '08
Your shoulders drop and those Mediterranean knees spread
Into the most relaxed of struts
You are the cockerel in his roost now we are home
A long slow warm passage of air slips through my nostrils
Bringing back the so many times before
In hailing short and deeply, I stretch my mouth for the last time
My ears grazed with foreign text born from ancient breath
The rolling of your tongue romances me
Like it never can in English
I find myself in mental masturbation at the simplest of sentences
So sexual,
‘’Ti cannes moraki mou?’’ ‘’How...do...you...do?’’
Chuckles awake me as the family finds us and replace our luggage with kisses
Jewels planted so softly inside the dimples of my cheeks, then squeezed
Before leaving me in mute.
Copyright © Naomi Jenkins | Year Posted 2008
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