Wicking a honeyed background through my finger-tips
Licking its lambent flickering air
Shameless digging for that mood
Trying to get that slight slit in this smile
Coming to terms that my teeth are not the color thought of as bone
But I'm told it's genuine
Though I know stitched to skin freckled with perfect ivory hues—
Warmed and at times removed
Noticing the stone has finally been smoothed and found adrift
Underscored with a mask that tirelessly draws
Nonetheless, finding I am prone and susceptible
So I hold it gently in my hands—
My within and vulnerable core
Praying for it to root and blend itself with my soul—
"Guard me from becoming concrete,
Keep my feet soiled with summer and dust,
Dancing ballet in rolled up jeans and belly button free"
If only at the end to keep one inspired verse
To paint it in grey and eggshell
I think of this as the street's lamppost rhythmically puts aflame that atmosphere
Like fireflies at dusk by their pond
mmmm—the hunt pours out with ambient glows about this room
Living, if only a moment, in this unguarded tailored dress
--Susie E.
6.13.2008
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