i am not clever enough
to invent a new and exciting
metaphor for loving you -
for this music we make,
so instead let me tell you stories
about jazz, about all the
improvisation
promised by storied hips
and soft half-moans or were they
moons like apples
with a bite already gone
i can tell you of violins,
of muscles stretched taut
against the strings,
bodies bent into instruments
until one becomes the other
and they both become fire.
Friday, September 18, 2009
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