June 13th. 3rd Anniversary.
It’s so steamy it can’t be real
The sun has gone down but the air still shimmers like the surface of the ocean
The swollen full moon
is hazed over
As heavy as my breasts
You have to move through the thick street like a velvet curtain rustling
To remind the air that it moves
It’s an unholy strange sensation
Like wool sprouted on your face and hands
In a thicket of nettles
Breathing water
It would be quite pleasant to be naked in a lake on a night like this
Lying on a rock
The still air it’s own roaring bonfire
Skin glowing
In the syrupy orange moon.
2 thoughts on "June 13th. 3rd Anniversary."
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A feast of impressive sensations. I like all the water that’s trickled among this unconscionable heat, placidly pulsing, roiling, lapping at limp and sticky limbs, and all of that discomfort splayed through a bevy of beautiful image and analogy treacly collecting in syrupy moonglow. As always, you’ve out done yourself, a ceaseless feast of impressive sensations—thank you.
Awww, my sweet Rivka. Thank YAH!
And as usual, your comment is it’s own ceaseless feast.