QUIETUS

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  • Devotion

    QUIETUS

     Pure
    White
    Plumy
    Razor cut strands
    Lounged extravagantly—
    Sprawled
    Athwart A glossy faced Pillowcase—
    Slumping
    Into satiny folds here and there.

    As I reach out
    To touch you
    Stroke your silky
    Curlicues—
    You said you
    like me fiddlin'
    With bendable
    locks that were—

    Young
    Fresh
    Shiny
    Harmonizing
    With color flecks in your eyes.
    Hush—
    Rest your sick heart as you slumber—
    Hear me?
    I’m merely asking you for more time.

    As I reach out
    To touch you
    Stroke your silky
    Curlicues—
    You said you
    like me fiddlin'
    With bendable
    locks that were.

    Copyright© 1999-2009 Caryl Ramsdale  All Rights Reserved.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    cajera’s Poems (10)

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