A New Art
October 28, 2008
Fingers trace the edges of her smooth skin
above that fissure where pleasures moan
and rivers surge,
Thought floats like a feather
in the dimness
of the room,
She shifts and uncovers her body
The chill hits her like an iceberg.
Legs entangled between sheets
Breathing vaporises into mist
Sleep overcomes.

