Short Labial Poems

tropical raindrops in the open orchid
labial portals
loosely folded
a rouged acceptance

a decorative wheelbarrow
as green as wet moss
tilts to see

small pungent gardens
listen
to their hothouse fevers...

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Why do those lips
moisten my own - years on?
That labial goodbye, with its embrocate
of memory
returns as a tangible ghost.

A time-traveling incubi latches upon my mind again.
A hummingbirds sip,
a recoil of sensory jack-hammers.

Today, words are meaningless,
lips remain pursed to that goodbye moment.

I did not know it was the end back then, but
it is perfectly clear now -

I am over it....

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