Saint Julian Press
David-Glen Smith - Poet - Father - Teacher

---

            v.

 

 

She always laughs as Diana, hiding herself

under folds of cotton, the pulsing plush

circling, circling with the nature

of aviaries, the spirits of language pushed

to the front of her mouth     How the taste of apples,

small and tart, mimics the taste of a tongue darting

between a couple kissing in dark alleys,

emotions exchanged, after hours, the night hardening

against them as they lean into each other.

 

The manner I wanted to exist: without

question, undeniable. No one ever

understood this thirst, this want to drink deeper

the essence, a mutual possession flowing.

An electric current. The arc of pulsing wings.

 

---

(C) Copyright 2015 ~ David-Glen Smith

Biography

For more information visit: http://davidglensmith.blogspot.com/.

---