Poison to a Marionette
POISON TO A MARIONETTE
Pondering the dips and curves,
the shadowy plunges
made of cream,
the promontories of delight
that make up arcade rides
for my tongue,
I taste the salt of your memory
in a mouth that speaks without words.
Lust’s puppeteer, you are
a welcome visitor to my heart.
You spin me drunk, dry as I am,
sipping nothing but your eyes.
There is no sound -
as if it were plucked away, pocketed.
I dance to the rhythm of your acquiescence.
Chestnut strands, outlining porcelain
angles and curves competing for perfection,
each a marker on the side of a road
with no destination, save heat.
Light shadows complete the portrait,
a face seen by none but me, onstage.
Brought to life by
warm friction from skin
enticed by silence, and a smile,
I die, happily
diving into ocean shaded windows,
care both stolen and unmissed.
Crimson petals imprinting feather soft notions,
commands to follow desire
to a sea of sheets and clouds,
poison to a marionette.
©2011 Christopher Reilley
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