The Persian Carpet

The Persian Carpet i am dripping in the shower of your love my skin wet where i lie at your feet and the scent is both soft like lavender and pungent like sacramental wine but the winds drifting off the sea and through an open window cool me where i rest shamelessly naked and spread cruciform on the floor across a carpet that you say is of royal Persian descent smuggled here at an incredible cost and under threats of death to you and all of yours it is stained you confess from all the men who have come before me but i do not mind the bleach of a spot here or there in the twist of its silk tapestry for it is mine to lie upon and stain for now Copyright © Kennedy James, 2012. All rights reserved.

a life alone ...

a life alone ... In the tumble of sleep she remembers something vague a tattoo along a sinewy forearm a scent of summer from a distant land a voice low and gentle a sudden thrust and a calm collapse  over her willingly pinned body And in that memory her breath hesitates stops and then catches fire in her breasts until her lips explode in a sudden release of stale air pushing memory away from desire and desire away from longing until in an unconscious gasp she wakes to breathe in the fresh certainty of a life alone Copyright © Kennedy James, 2012. All rights reserved.