Red Robe

Careless curls falling around you, lacing, binding fingers together,
holding captive waists and arms and damnably delicate cheek
bones that break me open with a grin. Delicious oat eyed
cannonball careening into me, slapping colored pens
into my black/white artistry; hankering inside a
desk drawer wanting to be tucked into the
deep of my duffle coat. Honking like a
swan in the dawn and then circling
as a raven aching for some icy
shine, glimmering gallant
huntress you pierce
all the home in
some great
red robe.
Yah.

© Copyright A. Marie Kaluza 2015

This poem is featured in The Red Robe – get it today and more for only $4.99

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