Mushi, mushi

/, Blesok no. 51/Mushi, mushi

Mushi, mushi

The world

Fall to my grounded
feet, slim tree,
and outgrow me.

Open the door.
Come evening, I have no eyes
so I come through the wall.

Let us be fire,
a barefoot thought
desires us – ash.

Fuming waters.
Body, release, sail
past my arms.

You come by darkness,
the air a razor, your
breasts a wound.

Yearning, you
stop nowhere. The night
is full of seed.

Cigarettes &
lips. A body in heat
plays with smoke.

I call you flower and
you wither in my arms.
The silence like dew.

The breath of your feet.
Softly, the grass
rises after them.

AuthorMilan Dekleva
2018-08-21T17:23:11+00:00 November 27th, 2006|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 51|0 Comments