desert rose

drifting like plankton among the shadows of passing spells,
wrapped in blue sheets of transience,
moonlight on brows and elbows,
tiptoeing through a stranger's dream -

a story without ending, sweet and hot
like turkish coffee served
in tiny cups filled anew forever.

letters written with white ink flow, pressed
out of erect nipples, unread and stored
in shirt pockets close to the heart - if i looked
through them in my dreams, would the heat of my sands
create form from your salt and tears?

beyond the concrete of all considerations, you are
arching over me your rainbow,
fool's gold and colours of everything to come;
skin exposed to the sound of night,
eyes like heartbeat grazing bodies sore with life,
spread out beneath the fresco ceiling,
dancing slowly,
meeting, parting, touching,
in an ancient rhythm of blue.

silent, be silent, but
swallow me into you,
lest the cool air finds any space between us -
let silence potentialize, radiate, while the thunder
of the city is screaming in the night of chosen destiny,
giving birth to a desert rose of forgotten sand.

.

.