chrissteele

Freckles

Freckles glance on her brow, smile on her
breast--glance, smile at me - at you;
but at me, Grin Love. Grinning freckles
reign on me, as Dove, as they are sung to
be, with kid claws and lip beaks.

Succulent, juicy Tangerine that I peel
easily, lithely - She lithely moving inside
and through my hands sighs grass through
her fruit. A kaleidoscope of our lean, rare love,
and berries and freckles and doves with
kid claws claws and lip beaks that pin our nerves
that shimmer slithers through
the green felt. She pens them and us
upon a world owned and ruled by kindred
spirits - no tenants, no other dwellers -
with a poem upon lace of freckles.
grinning . . . grin.
Grinning freckled lace.

Copyright Christopher Steele Brower