a grey sky,
my lips pressed
to your lips,
unfastened hair,

in a moment
i am drawn
to you,
in love with
your legs and
your smile,

grey dissidence
of the approaching
storm,
thunder caught
up in the hills,

the roses start
to wilt in the vase,

the roses of the sky
have silent wings,
time knotted
like a handkerchief
against my skin,

i am hollow, my
legs desiring yours,
love the swift sea,
the amber forest,

blowsy silk,
the clouds,
drawn of water,

and i sink
jealous of your love
and your legs,

wanting all of
you to fall in
love with me,

lips pressed
together,
love, my love,
the ghosts
of the storm.

To the Goddess of morn
who made bread from fire
and taught me how to read
to read the wreaths of coffee
into the songs of dawn.

And to the Mason who
showed me how to hammer,
form out of chaos
and cherish the scent of
the cement on grey-green walls.

© LazharBouazzi

'tween the sandy dunes of words
And the sparkling dark foams of ink
I riot as a snake would do
With his forked tongue
Among the
Unlettered stones of a sunny
Graveyard.

© LazharBouazzi, rev. 3/3/2018