S o m a t a

Mar 10, 2008 - 21:19 PM PST
I want to taste peridot and lace appliqué,
the arches in Arles, let the Strand
stomp over each taste bud –
bitter on the way to bewitching –
lick along the dorsum, ready flexed.

I want to smell the midnight red
from each lunar eclipse, a world
naked in updraft, the unwind,
inside, pressed against the hard palate,
clung to arms of almond paste.

I want to hear the yellow softness
sizzle and sigh with golden fingers
that slide across the pinna, balance,
vibrate, and safe against a too bright
fog and fade among unforgotten funnels.

I want to touch the center of 4 a.m.,
after palms emptied of slippery charm,
between the spaces of metacarpal and ulna,
fingers that sift through surprasternal grooves,
loose with new endings worn like nakedness.

S o m a t a


Channel Writing | 107 Views | 2 Comments
     

2 Comments

Mar 26, 2008 - 13:08 PM

puddle_smudges on
I love the sounds of this poem, very fun to read aloud. I like the sounds of the words "updraft, unwind" in the second stanza, makes it sound halting and i like the alliteration. also some very great moments, "i want to touch the center of 4 a.m." is very nice. i'm sure you'll touch it someday marybeth. lol.
Mar 13, 2008 - 21:38 PM

Hoffnungsloses on
i think i actually know what this one is talking about and i would have to congratulate you on the imagery. and the oddly flavored text. now i too am curious as to the flavor of peridot.