watching lightening
rip through the tenebrous sky,
anger-filled thunder scorns
the midnight hour.
We only came here to watch...
to breathe in cool night air.
I couldn't distinguish the shock
of your touch
from the wave of currents striking
the window of this sundance
crossing the blackened sky.
A feather-touch:
my lips, your lips, ours;
soft, seductive shivers.
Touches so electric,
we were unaware
of the youth-filled
dodge gunning
towards the embankment...
teen kisses, too innocent.
(They see our mirror image.)
In excited jolts,
like those of lightening raging
through the mountains,
we seek refuge
to thrill-seek
the precarious union
we are.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
watching lightening
rip through the tenebrous sky,
anger-filled thunder scorns
the midnight hour.
We only came here to watch...
to breathe in cool night air.
I couldn't distinguish the shock
of your touch
from the wave of currents striking
the window of this sundance
crossing the blackened sky.
A feather-touch:
my lips, your lips, ours;
soft, seductive shivers.
Touches so electric,
we were unaware
of the youth-filled
dodge gunning
towards the embankment...
teen kisses, too innocent.
(They see our mirror image.)
In excited jolts,
like those of lightening raging
through the mountains,
we seek refuge
to thrill-seek
the precarious union
we are.
© 1994, Iona Nerissa
All poetry under the names Lori Carlson or Iona Nerissa are the sole property of Lori Carlson.
Please seek permission before using any of my writings.
~Lori Carlson~
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