04-26-2011, 12:28 PM
Out of the dust bowl
new flowers emerge, colours serene
yet perturbing. You place your hands on my thighs,
I squeeze the blanket, my knees resting
on cushions we chose especially for this.
More blooming. Pink leaves. Then indigo stalks
and hazel faces as you enter me
like a satellite drifting through space.
The dust bowl is coming alive. Filling
with flowers, a scented leaf dish on a kitchen table.
But I've not seen these plants before.
new flowers emerge, colours serene
yet perturbing. You place your hands on my thighs,
I squeeze the blanket, my knees resting
on cushions we chose especially for this.
More blooming. Pink leaves. Then indigo stalks
and hazel faces as you enter me
like a satellite drifting through space.
The dust bowl is coming alive. Filling
with flowers, a scented leaf dish on a kitchen table.
But I've not seen these plants before.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe