Babylonian Gardens

I recall lust,

and those women

in lazy purple gardens,

sleeping like blue shadows. 

 

Death but a spring

in their sordid winter hearts,

on the verge of blossoming

into billowing cumulus pinks.

 

Picture it:

You and I, almost

lovers, sipping lemon

grass tea on the veranda

 

while Mademoiselle Desrosiers

in 2B taps out a lethargic

piano ballad, her notes

yearning for the sun.

 

Eagerness, I suppose,

is how I would describe it,

sitting beside you there in the

leafy midsummer breeze,

 

ready to leap into oblivion.

I kissed your cheek and fell

headfirst into a ripening

chrysanthemum, the inside

 

of which was filled with

so many sunsets, so many

rivers flowing towards the

burning gates of Babylon. 

Reviews

[Marshall]

Very impressive word management, clutching the images along in a racy verse formation. Splendid, silky flow with exquisite imagery, telling a story of lust and longing and metaphors sizzling along nicely. Love this poem. Its the first one Ive read but my guess is that you write with this translucent kind of language and slips and slides around effortlessly.

Well done. Love this one.