sugarflowers — a poem I wrote some time ago, that ran over here, plus a song…


here is the link into pj’s place EAST TO WEST POETRY where you can read some of the most exquisite poetry from American poets, ever — pj nights and john e have been my editors here and at another place…too sad right now to write one today, so far — try later maybe but in the meantime…


(for joe russell)

it was his voice
lips against the receiver
and your fingers followed white rooms and the sea
crashing inside your head
following direction
touch it
tongue up against the phone, so plastic
but not between your thighs cream, sugarflowers how many hands?
how many hands have traveled you?
unraveled you?  just one voice in creamswell surges
and the tide beat in and out all day
like my fingers remembering
lost voices, or his whispers from the sea
(i heard him calling, maybe i�ve gone mad, she said) all gone, the rooms like corridors
the whispers corridors
just one voice and then your thighs
tilting fullbloom open, sugarflowering that thing you took of his once
or that thing he took of yours
it burned whitehot    like grace like so many words or poems
nights he talked you down into sleep and elsewhere
you�d fall all magnolia
spread wide open
petals curling
just around his sound after he died you�d play it sometimes
over and over on that tiny tape
the very last message he ever left you
and you thought about his garden
full of sugarflowers and moonlight and the rooms where he�d lain, splayed

� 2004 by Valentina BonnairePreviously published at the Erotica Readers and Writers Association

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