Revelation

      Trace your hands across me, leave an imprint like hieroglyphics in the sand, a caress of foam and waves. My life has not been full of oysters and tenderness but as the reverberation of my soul mounts to your song I am flummoxed by the simple beauty of it.

With my skirt rucked up against a white washed wall all I see through my meshed lashes are star bursts of sunlight where once there was a verdigris cupola under a cerulean sky and angles of ancient baked clay tiles. And I shake, shake, shake, dancing to our rhythm with abandon, half lucid, half lost in a world I have never known. A symphony of sighs reaches its pinnacle and I begin to fall, sated, floating down like a feather in the wind, occasionally caught in updrafts of near memory.
      And now I understand. I am plucked from the bloom. A fallen rose petal. Tarnished in perfume and promise. What would mother say? Or the Cardinal? But in my glow of satisfaction what care I? The copper roof in all its weathered imperfection still holds the rook as I will hold you. Close in my heart. And I shall be the greater for some verdigris. Taros in Memoriam.