PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Wearing only wind and
the polished memories of
a sun wilting too quickly
in the trees,
we discover the pond.

Two splashes.
A laugh.
We scramble leaf-cluttered sky
into marble,
shatter birdsong into music
that soars past a
hundred wings.

Don’t breathe,
my heart cries,
just live on this perfection
and the dark odyssey of
your tongue,
reducing me to a huntress
and the hunted.

I’ll leave my body,
my soul shouts, if I can
have yours for a moment,
under this water
like the jade of some
spirit temple:
too soft for mortals,
too mortal for gods.

Floating in and out of each
other’s souls . . .
above:
complete and unblemished sky,
flat and close enough to
write on.

We trade hearts and skin and
feel we have found Truth
and a type of joy that believes
in nothing but itself
in the frothy-sweet fragrance
tap-dancing across
our water,

there in our green and
immortal and unquestioning
universe.

Growing darkness
chiseling a new sky
from a denser infinity.

Crumbling granite,
one gypsy star.

On solid ground we listen
to chattering hearts and
watch the lights go on in a
kingdom we want to be
a part of.

Wheel of moon,
torn and star-drunk.
Soon she will spill her
glistening soul and
encase the ground
in Lucite . . .

her love
and our love:
our blanket through
the night.

by Patricia Joan Jones