Between Sheets

let me bed you
on the silk
of this green corn moon

spawning in fingers

the slow fire of rust
never sleeps past
the horizon slip
black silk and
low light flicker
of candles are
at the shore
as the Moon catches
each ripple
to lap the air
with crash moans
wanting more
of this dance
wanting more
than your eyes
can hold at
any one time…

[ Gratitude once again to Edward Rinaldi aka blindedbeatpoet for sharing his poetry here. It’s miraculous to me how simple conversation can birth words so easily. Please take a moment to visit his work at the blind lantern. ]


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