Friday, September 12, 2014

100 Words



In her mind, they meet in a clearing, conscious of the cliché, but captured all the same by the beauty of their bodies beating in the sun, the electricity swimming on their swollen tongues, awareness dipping into some peasant fold, so that he moves—and she moves—and they move—as leaves move.   

Like a bird she will dive into his mouth. 

And oh, the sky, and aye, the clouds, and yes to the weight of his body being on her own, yes for the felt and fleeting clutch of an immortal light, in all this blood between the legs.  

6 comments:

the walking man said...

Sarah you have a most curious way of presenting what appears as eroticism. All in a natural setting.

Sarah Hina said...

Just searching for that spark of transcendence, Mark.

Charles Gramlich said...

Poetry indeed. Such a smooth flow to this. I'm a teeny bit jealous.

Sarah Hina said...

I'm more than a teeny bit flattered, Charles. Thank you!

Vesper said...

I like how this starts... "In her mind"...

Yes, wonderful poetry of thoughts and setting...

Sarah Hina said...

How expansive the mind is, Vesper. I know you know this, friend.