Riverwine
Labels:
3ww,
dangerous,
keepsake,
naquillity,
poesaics,
restless,
riverwine
·
©
Naquillity
at
10:04 AM
articulating sweet brown sugar
between my toes.
with each restless tabla (drum)
my feet release night's keepsake-
crushed brown grapes
churned into riverwine-
somewhere between black faith
and green, that dangerous hour,
that bruises a molasses wind.
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6 comments:
I kind of sense a loneliness in there, maybe it's the mention of dangerous hour, I don't know, I think I read too much into things
I wonder what a molasses wind feels, smells, tastes like :)
Shawna's Study Abroad
This is great. I love the title.
Those last three lines are amazing. I really enjoyed reading this one-- made me want to go find something soft and squishy.
very vivid descriptions here, I love the molasses wind...
what lovely language, Michelle. I agree with Pam, the last three lines in particular.
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