La Vie en Rose



I awoke to la vie en rose
through an open door.
The pillow is damp with her perfumed sweat
and I hear le vie en rose and a splash
as she raises one foot above the water,
and French slips between the English
smoother than the cloth across her breasts.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras.
When he holds me in his arms? 
The faucet interrupts to refresh and reheat my songbird
and she sinks to her chin, 
careful not to dip the happy towel 
who holds her hair off her freckle peppered white shoulders.
Il me dit des mots d’amour.
Words of love?
My song drowns in another splash
as she stands and all the pink in her 
rushes to her skin,
my la vie en rose.

Blueprints

Blueprints

On blueprints drafted before birth

you were planned and crafted

to be my compliment.

The silhouette of my profile,

the mend for my every flaw,

the finished form of this ragged prototype.

On blueprints drafted before birth,

you were created to complete me.

Carefully measured and laid on the cutting table,

every hair on your head

and thought in your mind..

Such perfection in execution

could never be left to fortune.

Venus and Mars Tanka Quartet

I peel our sheet back
to reveal your nakedness,
moon lit like Venus found
by Mars, his warlike heart stilled,
his sword put to loving use.

The sparse cover of your
mound offers no defense as
you roll to open your
unguarded thighs to the tender
charge of a single finger.

Dew of half waking
dreams, slick and sweet, precious
scented oil fuels my
lust and soothes my ache, fills
our room and brings you to me.

Mars’ armor will rust
while Venus holds the scabbard
to his sword. Let me
now be Mars to your Venus,
pacified only by your love.