Come to Me
Come to me
before the dawn
dims the stars.
The same wave
that washes
the clouds
moves in your
fluttering breath.
Let me see the
play of shadows
on your breasts.
Let me part the rose
that roots
in your heart.
Let me bathe
in the warm sound
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Charles W. Bailey, desire, in English Clear filters
The Salt Stone
I have licked
the salt stone.
Run mad
as a mushroom cap
bobbing in the rapids
of a dark stream.
Leapt up
the oak ladder
to circle the
crescent moon.
The wind
lies languid
in the ivory caves
of your
morning
mouth.
Tide
You move
like a winter tide
rolling on a belly
of sand.
Swirling over me,
fondling
the broken shells
of my sighs.
Lick my skin
with salt
and silt
before I
die.
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