Thursday, May 04, 2006

The Descent

And so it begins,
the spiral descent.

Lip between lips,
tongue tip tasting ...

Bring me down
my bogus priest;
take me to my knees.

Only you worship the blood
canted in my veins -
forbidden flavour.

Pale amber dawn
polishes the sky to stone.

razed by lightning,

finger crazed,
dazed by the sudden prayer of sex,

the sullen opening of ruby.
How the blood tips extend their absolutions,

lest we forget
we have been melded in this pot before,

lest we remember
that slow, feathered, starless fall.


Pris said...

I absolutely love this!

burning moon said...

cheers Pris. I'm glad you liked it.

AnnMarie Eldon said...


AnnMarie Eldon said...

I love it so much and it reminded spookily of a poem I wrote 8 years ago! which I looked up and posted above

Jill said...

really love it, moon.

burning moon said...

hey thanks Anne Marie and Jill. I had some reservations about whether this worked or not, so it's good to get some positive feedback.

I can see why it reminded you of your poem Anne marie, although I don't have your wide reaching vocabulary. I'm quite envious of the words you find and use.