Monday, March 03, 2008

  • Marzipan

    Currently Reading
    HIV, Mon Amour: Poems
    By Tory Dent
    see related

    Those lips, which parted, holding marzipan
    sweet almond in her kiss and knowing
    just how much I love the taste of her, she
    leans into me, pushes her face to mine.

    The rain outside becomes staccato in
    octaves, echoing across the shallow space
    of night. Her body lithe: a piano, a cello, a
    violin. Certainly an instrument to my inventing
    mind. But she does not belong to me.

    Outside of our four walls the moon is
    nothing if not so much of white. And
    rocking our sleeping minds back and forth
    like newborns, that plum dark sea
    protectively embraces the idea of what
    we might become if left alone.


Comments (9)

  • New! You can now edit your comments for 15 minutes after submitting.

About this Entry

Who recommended?