The sky’s belly hangs low above my head,
pregnant,
waiting for the delivering cut
suffocating, impatient,
do it, human!...
I feel your hand sliding into mine,
I look at you
knowing the time has come,
the moment
ripe...
I pick up the knife and slash,
oh, that scream of inebriated, delighted agony
as disemboweled clouds fall out of way
and a cataract of rimpled sunsets and knotted rainbows
and squashed stars drenches us,
and a liberated sky-mother cuddles us to her lap
together with its writhing, giggling, burning newborns
allowing us to join in nectar’s suckle off boisterous mornings
and defiant comets
and sumptuous lilac.
Is it real? you ask frightened, delighted.
As real as a dream’s birthing, I answer,
forgetting the boisterous mornings and defiant comets and sumptuous lilac
and turning my mouth avidly
upon your breast.
In a list
A contest entry
- Win $50, and be published in the next Allpoetry Book! by Kevin.
400 points, ended January 15, 77 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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As always your writing moves the reader, this reader, with its intensity of emotion...always it is love - imaginative, real, like mornings, like the night's shower of stars and comets. Loved the colours here, my friend - gorgeous poetry.
~ Nicolette
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Perfect!
Your imagination always goes beyond the all borders of imagination, of course, if any exists. So vivid, so beautiful, so poetry, so you... poet. I can see and hear how the sky opens its belly... 
~Sonja~
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