Tuesday, May 26, 2009

[Poetry Warp] March 31, 1998: Meditations on Klimt's Der Kuß

Meditations on Klimt's Der Kuß

It was August, golden in the climax of
and caught in the vines of your
trust we turned towards
each other for a second,
eyes tangling,
your lithe body swaying like the beat of
warmth against my torso

in the late afternoon,
my fingers had found the ruddy tendrils
of your hair,
browning flowers in funeral rites
among the curls

I leaned towards you.


"I have never been in love,"
you said, white limbs enveloped between
the course hair of mine,
and my eyes agreed,
hungry for some taste of you
caught between the golden vines of August,
now setting with the closing
of the day

all was quiet but for your breathing
on my chest,
and the soundless fall of the
dead flowers coming loose from your tousled

tracing the bow of your mouth,
I tried to memorize the
lines, the curves,
the taste of women lips.

After I had put my son to sleep,
kissing his clammy brow,
trying to still the anger in
his dark eyes,
I left the mechanized rotations of my little
my wife who busied herself trying
not to catch my eyes,
lest I remember that we were once one

there was a girl in the field, eyes partially
invisible to the sinking lights
of day,
and I watched her move sullenly from
view, lips swollen,
thighs bruised with loving.

and I felt my heart disappear with that

Align Centera kiss.

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