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bird bath

I’ll go to sleep in the fog,
lie down below its
hovering feet, dream of
breathing in the heady perfume
of small talk, patronized smiles,
the molasses eyes of men
as they syrup you, butter you
from collarbone to calf.
I dream of that.

In the fog, love, you touch my arm
and I follow you to the baptizing basin
in my old backyard. A bird lights on the
rough, white stone and I am forced
to call him God; He dips his beak
in holy water and leaves it there,
as if He struck gold too heavy to lift.

You speak to Him, love, as I
shut my eyes and pretend
I am back below the fog,
opening my mouth for no breath,
and I am there.
I wrote this from another character's point of view, actually. I'm collaborating with a friend of mine on a novel called "The Romancing of Tuesday Dennings." Without giving away any plot details, it's about a [character trait I won't divulge] man named Simon who writes letters to a [character trait I won't divulge] poet named Tuesday. They start as fan letters and grow into a kind of introspection on their lives. It's fun to write, and seems to be received pretty well by readers. You can read it here if you'd like. [link]

Anyway, Tuesday needed a poem, and this is what came out. Any constructive criticism would be SO appreciated, since it needs to be believable that the poet who wrote this has published poetry books (aka, much better than I am). Haha. :aww:
:icontricksyriver:
tricksyriver Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2009
I love your strings of words. A million.
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:iconwaltz-with-me:
Waltz-With-Me Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2009
Thank you very much. That means a lot. :heart:
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July 12, 2009
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