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May 25, 2005
Her last Lover
She sits on the porch
at the end of the evening,
crossing her long brown legs
taking another drag of her cigarette,
her eyes half open humid, she is
splayed on the lazy chair, no movement
within her, of the life that so ernestly had
stayed for all the long days of yearning, and
the restless urges that have succumbed to
the indiffrences of days passed, the
hours that fled only to leave traces
of her sagging eyelids, the crowsfeet
around her yeys, and the subtle lines
around her mouth, coming to her in
quiet intervals of her loving
and leaving
The calling moon aglow
within the spread of the sky,
the sounds of the waves, the invitation
of water, to reach the quiets of its depth
to take away, all and all, like a summer dress
falling from her shoulders, and the submission of
it, the acceptance, the passages,--Yes to hurl
within the unknown, and the excitement of
expectations, her last fling, her last
lover, the one who would take her
away, while she hangs from his
shoulders, no more words,
spoken or written, no
explanations, just
a departure
Mother will love her again
and they all will come, all her
lovelies, dressed in their Sunday clothes
and they all remember, how relentless she was
the curiosity of her urges, her sweet kisses,
her giving limbs, for she never denied them,
holding them under her breasts, within
her, inside, as she locked them in a
stare, with her big brown irrises
whispering--Love me, Love me, Love me,
again and again
And they all will
watch her walking down
the sandy bottom, hand in hand
with the one that took her away
as they disappear in the
dark pitch of void
Posted by Idinraha at May 25, 2005 04:31 PM