Fires

Long swan fingers
command the lights above her,
like stars absent of glow,
she imprisons the ears of want
with her voice.
She licks the air,
teasing angels with pearl soft words,
tempting the thrones of god’s
with movements of lust without touch;
the skin she alone keeps safe.
She steals the depths of faces
into the ocean of her eyes,
a blackness warmed by alone
where scars from fires
light her way.

Roger G. Singer

Archived 07/05/2011