Erato

A string taut strung, I strain against her silence.

Longing for the resonance

Of my cage of oiled wood.

She will pull me, pluck me, hair and lip.

I will sing into the cleft between word and deed

(The sunwarmed hide,

Dust of leaves, the swollen forest taste, the things I forgot.)

 

For her, for her I will.

I will swim the sea of nascent ecstasy

Serpentine

Ready,

Ready for the shouting break,

The willing wet thighs, the tangle of vein and flank,

 

Hands full of flesh released to rhythm from the

Cloying milk of thought.

 

For her I will strain, strung tight, into majesty

To pour out sticking streams of song.

 

(c 2014 Liz Reilly)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s