The Red and the Black
Tonight, my skin is a checkerboard
across which your fingers trod.
My eyes are the ransacked cities;
my arms the passageway to escape.
Your hands claim my ribs, my neck.
Your hands rest on my cheeks
sprouting full-formed wheat stalks.
I am the sea, formless and uneasy.
You are the ploughed land, stable and course.
Your calloused hands are tendrils of smoke
hovering in this watchful darkness.
Copyright © Sam Mayhue | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment