Fog

Fog proposes in shackles
A winding hiss of suffocation
Past sweeps me in dust and tacks
Peeling paint, long dead spiders
Pressing on a misty sill, still
Exhaling lust for tenderness
Fizzing to enfold
A sweet woman soul
Legs hug, forward pressed
Eyes folded, fingers expand
To the shadow cooing

Standing next to them
Clicking and laughing
Scrape rusting hope
To discover blindness
Disgust, sheer bitterness
My siren’s distant whisper
Is a teardrop in the bath?
Where do the mad go.
Where do the mad.

Bitter brushed am I
Silk bodice blowing
Twilight hysteria
Sea glint, Sapphic wind
Moans with earth’s perplexities
Vagina whole and centered
Vagina fertile wisdom
Tearful, delightful
Deep rains mourning
A Kiss of death