I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library- Jorge Borges



Saturday 23 October 2010

Candle

First,
your naked flame is coated
cold blue,
but in the cave of my hands
you widen.

Your torso smooth
like I remembered.
so white, you illuminate
in dusky night.

Curiously
tilting you to one side…
your liquid form
s
p
i
l
l
s
in the palm
of my cup.

I watch your transparency
harden white.
then peel you
away
from me,
my identity
imprinted on your form.

2 comments:

  1. Lovely and evocative. My Zen mind sees a candle but my erotic imagination takes me elsewhere.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ha ha I'm pleased my poem provokes multiple wanderings of the imagination...

    ReplyDelete