The Stranger

The radix of our love was three. In lands of paradox
the past reflected future to the sea: Your face bent
like a crescent blade, shearing summer from our Fall.
The lusts of autumn blew the awestruck west
from shades of east released against your breast: I knew
the stranger’s scent, the streak of foreign oils, felt
the stranglehold of darkened hair, twisted out of time,
until your body dimmed against a cold wives’ haunt
of flames gone lame: I burn the unlived light alive.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s