Of a Curious Sort

A greenness
that can only
be a
starry-eyed, yellow-bellied, blue-soled acquaintance.
Followed by the murmurous quiet
belayed intrusions
New English girls with
flaming crowns and
affectionate indications
gently glancing
the left stage of a mort
who tied herself to the
current of the sea
wrapped in screens
and incandescent candy foils.

Invention

Your arm moves across the bench, your fingers slip through my own a tapestry of icy skin, meeting pelagic eyes. Yours, the deep blue of an Atlantic reflect my Mediterranean splash.

A still prayer escapes your lips, head bowed. It flies through the air with precision, my ears receptive to your elder tongue. Minerva, sitting on this shoreline, musical poetry pulsing through thought. I can barely see, lean closer, lost in my thoughts, a moment. So many. My own unknown potential finally found in the high tides of your eyes.