Sunday, October 18, 2009

Forgive me if I didn't sleep at all

by Ewong Martines
while I lay there beside you,
for I had rather relished the sight
of your slumber: ever beautiful
and tranquil, as if innocent
of this crime
of this night.
The slits of your eyes,
woven with lovely lashes
of a desert goddess, closed in
on the harsh light of day.
You drooled while dreaming
an outrageous adventure—
you had taken me again
to that realm
called heaven
even by atheists. And yes,
you were snoring,
but it was a song so pure
it conjured the rainbow
after a typhoon. My fingers
mapped your summer skin,
and the wild tigress turned
into a stray kitten in the streets
of my heart. Your lips
I kissed,
then I, too, succumbed
to the clamor of
sleep tight and
sweet dreams.
Your face—my final
memory, mesmerizing—
every pore,
every hair,
every line,
the picture to which I whispered: I
wish you were mine.

"The Embrace" by W.N.

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