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Saturday, January 17, 2009

Finding Faith

shadows retreated
into the haze
of oily lamp-lit smoke,

fire striking earth,
a physical ignition
never failing to provoke,

your skin's reflection
as curved as
the narghile's glass belly,

I touched you as though
you had some power
to explain my soul to me,

I held you, I smoked you,
a secret flowing within
the natural stain of love,

we drifted like the
rising smoke, and eyes
looked down from above,

I lay on your body,
a divan for the dying
looking for faith again,

lips buckled in
a gentle suckle,
you took away all pain.

A Divan for Dying: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

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