Mystic Lip Work

Our words pour

over each other

like hot water

on loose leaf tea...

Like joyous ships

at night who've found

a lantern

lit

deep within

the darkened

arts of the sea

and the eye

of this storm

that brews

in me...

The steamy

engine room

demands its fuel!

by sonar, or

by tapping

into,

in archaic

morris code,

our very thoughts

above the radar

are overheard

and ohhh!...

...The sights and

whispers,

whatsoever

daylight denies

finds it's outlet beneath

our inky skies

and parted

smiles...

In the labor

of life, my Love

the shorthand

of Nature is

complimented

with a flush

on silken paper

rising

across the

horizon line

slips that perfect

nectarine...

...just out of reach

so much closer

to our breath,

and kisses

squeezing

the words

not yet

expressed...

We'll find them

in the throat of night,

and all paths left

unkempt, yet

thoroughly inviting

right on sight...

I beg you now to work

those chops,

and take me to the

swollen rock

where thoughts and actions

meet so sweetly...

Our words pour

over each other

like hot water

on loose leaf tea...

That is their lot, and link

in ever-loving life,

this road to take

a blink,

and up into a moonlit sky

we're drawn succinct

until the traces of our kind

arrives extinct upon the

ancient tablets

for the future orphans

of a world

that's lost it's wits.

©

3/23/21

Bunny Villaire

& Mavia Villaire