deliver me
the details, number
the legs, trace your
fingers
around the space
where loneliness
takes it
the hardest, lonely
teeth
mouth our bodies, let
our elephants trek
the folded skin
of Hannibal’s escape
march me
through your pass,
let us screw
this up, leaving
crumpled satin
trumpets
along the toll roads
of our retreat
& dverse
deliver me, indeed...very fine, sir.
ReplyDelete"...trace your fingers around the space where loneliness takes it..."
-stunning.
ha. yes, mary picked my first fav line...the leaving of the crumpled satin along the roads of our retreat...the elephants and hannibal ref...spot on...there is a nice heat under this.
ReplyDeleteI am loving this from beginning to end. Should I ever feel the need to retreat my pursuers shall find a trail of crumpled satin trumpets just for the pure poetic image of it.
ReplyDeletewhew... there def. is some good heat in this... but also the sensitive voice that really sees the other..
ReplyDeleteWell, the previous four have said it all! Very well done!
ReplyDeleteStunning opening lines ~ I admire the tight and gritty words ~
ReplyDeleteNice to meet you ~
I have to love the crumpled satin trumpets..
ReplyDeleteDamn fine writing.
ReplyDeleteWonderful writing.
ReplyDeleteMany well-crafted phrases in this poem. Sometimes the 55 format focuses the detail so that only what is essential remains.
ReplyDelete