Sensitivity

From your heart, a wine that sobers

An overtone of musk and a sweetness,

Almost piteous, that lowers my knees

And my ribs as if they were only strings.

There is a look in your eyes

That suggests diamonds have

Cut away your valuables,

The look of a thief apprising

Treasures he cannot possibly comprehend.

There is a miser in your hands

And he does not touch me tenderly.

His breath is icy, his accouterments bald-faced.

I know that he does not desire me

But still his bare knuckles drag

Over my impatient flesh

As if to silence and indeed he does silence.

The moon has a crude look

Like wadded up bits of paper mache.

Tonight she is uneclipsed and her scars

Are showing like embers in a furnace.

I pray to her as we feast, indulging

On intimacies, wholly inadequate.

I have 2 parties this weekend so I am not sure if I will pull off a poem a day and I may not be available for comment. Please forgive any delays.

OctPoWriMo

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12 responses to “Sensitivity

  1. Wow, I truly don’t know how you do this–this incredible thing with stellar lines, day after day…. At first I was going to say the 2nd stanza was my fave…but then it just went on and on fabulous….sigh

  2. Ah Yves, how could you do no less than outstanding as always…each stanza affecting me…but that last one..stunning. Have a great weekend and fun at your parties:)

  3. An overtone of musk and a sweetness,
    Almost piteous, that lowers my knees
    And my ribs as if they were only strings.

    The moon has a crude look
    Like wadded up bits of paper mache.
    Tonight she is uneclipsed and her scars
    Are showing like embers in a furnace.

    Consistently blow me away Yves!

    Hope you managed and survived all the festivities without too much craziness or exhaustion.

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