Wow, vowels, vowels!
God spells vowels out
and they turn into verses, tales and novels
about the fall, the banishment, about
the last goodbuys to innocence. The vowels
of interjections that you spell before
you overflow over the edge, my goddess,
turn into a new heaven. Two, three, four,
not, five spikes of the pleasure! A black bodice
is on the floor. The big-eyed mirror spies
on the immodest shadows. The avowals
of love and a discreet, a clockwise rise
of the new passion.
Vowels, vowels, vowels!
Copyright © Kurt Ravidas | Year Posted 2019