Pilot me to the edge,
to the door between either and or.
Wear tie and handkerchief,
the trilby that looks sexier on you―
with midnight in your pocket,
your shadow fixed between the arrows.
Look to the middle distance when the tide is out―
at last you see migration on the horizon.
Give me mellow, for keeps.
Show me the other side of clouds―
pull goggles over my eyes,
kisses from my quiver.
Let me be free to let go―
die that little death.
tk/June 2013
Thanks to R.A.D. Stainforth for bringing this poem to life.
The Promenade, 1918, Marc Chagall |
Pilot me to the edge,
ReplyDeleteto the door between either and or.
Oh yes! A deliciously perfect poem that fills me with longing - to be free to go is to be free to stay...
Lovely, Tess. I especially like the opening couplet and:
ReplyDeletepull goggles over my eyes,
kisses from my quiver.
Your words take flight today.
ReplyDeleteLove that you allow Mr. Stainforth the privilege of bringing your beautiful poetry to life ......... he does it well.
ReplyDeleteHe does it superbly...I'm very fortunate to have him read my poems...
Deletebeautiful love poem
ReplyDeletewow.
ReplyDelete(I think that's all I need to write, here, after each of your poems. I have to write SOMETHING and it's always "wow.")
I like "wow"...thank you...
DeleteThe other side of clouds. I know that place - somewhere, over the rainbow.
ReplyDeleteAny verse that references a trilby is elegiac in my book. Glad you managed to weave those goggles in there too.
ReplyDeleteThe goggles are essential...
DeleteBeautiful
ReplyDeleteGive me mellow, for keeps. Oh, what a joy that would be! Nicely penned (and recited) Tess.
ReplyDeleteTides and migration, hmm- interesting!
ReplyDeleteGreat last line.
ReplyDeleteI'm trying to picture you writing this. Small island, deserted beach, 1.30 am, tousled hair, flowing silk gown. Tell me I'm right.
ReplyDeleteYou're absolutely right, Cro...
DeleteLa Petit Morte. Oh my.
ReplyDeleteIt looks like its really workin for her !
ReplyDeleteIt somehow seems to me that your whole life is to "die that little death" and how privileged I am to share pieces of your ectasy with you.
ReplyDeleteWith midnight in your pocket...what a lovely piece of writing.
ReplyDeleteDelightfully erotic. Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteI love this take on it. Flight works so well. "with midnight in your pocket"--favorite line!
ReplyDeleteI love this one, Tess!
ReplyDeleteLet me be free to let go - love this line!
ReplyDeletebeautiful......
ReplyDeleteWhat a marvelous kiss that must be! Your writing is alive with desire and visions!
ReplyDeleteLovely poem and reading.
ReplyDeleteLove this. *sigh*
ReplyDeleteI adore the little death, turns me inside out. Chagall brings tears of joy.
ReplyDelete