The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 11/15/09

[BlueIris]

"Sunday Night in the City"

Hand in hand, we lie on the bed,
our long legs crossed like folded
wings, our long feet touching the
footboard in shadow, curved like a headstone
with grapes. Your hair is ruffled, dark
as black walnut, curled like the tendril of
vines. Your right hand is in my right
hand. My left hand is in your left.
arms linked like skaters, we lie
under the picture of farmland: brush
dark and blurred as smoke, trees
lifting their ashen fish-skeletons,
and central to it, over us,
the calm pond,
silent as if eternal.

--Sharon Olds

[Tuesday Afternoon]

1. very nice

yes, I like it. thanks.

[BlueIris]

2. You might like it better now that I've weeded the typos out of it. nt

[Tuesday Afternoon]

3. it feels like winter.

to me. I like it with or without the typos :)

[CaliforniaPeggy]

4. My dear BlueIris...

Ah, lovely!

I really appreciate the consistent metaphors that point towards death...

Erotic without being explicit is great too...

Thank you!

:D