temperate trade-winds

I watch. I watch the snow fall on new eyes, the dust dancing. I watch men gobble women. I watch the ripping of christmas morning happiness. I see lots. I see the cotton dispating on anothers eyes. I do nothing, I let my bones sleep, I let my flesh feel, I let my eyelids seal.

Rolled knees and groggy eyes. A womens trees feather over my chin- her. I turn to face her- smiling. She lies smiling. Smiling. Her trees are moving now, tugging my hand, I stand.

Breakfast nostaliga, my favourite liar. Shes smiles, again. And passes me a white tall bottle- white- skin? white- snow? I pour, the snow falling from glass 'o' lips. She- her smiles gone. My fingers smooth the snow down- wet. She passes me a snippet of material. Wipes over. My little round world of snow gone. "Silly" The snow melted, my heart, nettled.

Removal of tounge, crashed waves, my lungs. "God, look at you" Leaves are the gust of wind on my clothes, blown wings. I want to fly. Blown cape, I want to fly. Just blown clothes, I need to fly. 5 branches are beginning to unbutton my shirt, whispering a deep echo on my chest. "God, look at you"  I look at me, I look at her. Always smiling. "God look at you" Smiling, smiling. I smile. Her branches a gust of wind on my face, my skin a cobweb on the walls. Blown, i want to fly. Blowing, I am flying.

Reviews

[Collect-Eye]

I would call this "temperate trade-winds"..just an idea, since it is untitled...lemme know what you think..

[Collect-Eye]

Umm..use this one as one of your entries for sure...

You breeze through chaos here w/ amazing grace...
You're doing transition and contrast w/ great flow and precision, Safrina..
I'm always impressed by the deep places you traverse and the voice you use to navigate, putting yourself in the path of the great and proper internal winds & w/ seemingly effortless efficiency..
I know it takes great talent and courage to do what you do and i love and respect you immensely.

[caliban]

fix yer spelling and punctuation and you have a really good poem there. was "i want men [...]" a slip, or did you mean "watch"? I'd lose "this repeats" . . . too clinical or writer suddenly visible or something. just my opinion, of course.

regardless, very good job.

[Simone]

I adore this poem. It's wonderfully written yet in a style that is quite uncommon.
"Blowing, I am flying."
perfect ending.
I look forward to reading more of your work.