Swing Fan the Fire

those legs are crossed
under desk
those thighs before the buttock pressed tight
as one leg falls free to a sweet swing
a pendulum
the quiet fire
an ember
await a return to ignite
elongated fingers sweep across the keys of the computer
typing to Miles “Kind of Blue.”
coincidence
the night spent
morning anew
today with thought

 

© 2010 Lepadah