Dinner

Eyes green - Those aspen leaves - Fill with blood-thought mind Arms willow-form Drift as legs When long and lofty, Glide the glass of cool-clear wine Towards my trembling hand Heart hums in tune While veins trickle -feed a path Along the sad silk of skin - Your tributaries of life All this I see Across the rising air From that bashful candle - It knows, gracefully, it knows Little yellow flame Floundering like a naked ballerina Seeking out a place to hide her anorexic frame Stage fright overwhelms You close down your lashes We are the end Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2014