From Axis by Octavio Paz

The way you’re caressing my
earlobe with kittenlike tongue
and seeking in tickle of
sense to burn me with sun
of precision incision in
touch, is a prison of your(s)
it’s the birdsong in forest


Another Golden Shovel for De’s prompt at dVerse. Just to show I could do a Mexican poet for Cinco de Mayo.

May 5, 2016

13 responses to “Birdsong

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