SKIN
I ran into
an abandoned olive grove
and pressed out their skins
to make yours.
I took nine green olives and
painted them onto you,
each detail
perfectly softened.
I daubed a dot of black on your
right cheek, near your eye
and created starry symmetry
on the geometry of your face.
I stopped and then glanced at it all
a blended self-satisfied color
rich and full, yet one that seemed
fitting. You climbed over these rocks
and stood
self satisfied and steady.
That’s it, easy and steady,
yes, a bit like your first flying lesson,
when you soared over the burnt umber dunes,
tart and sweet, like a fist kiss!
I wandered on the ground then
pondering your disappearance:
Then I find you
as I look upwards:
a line of burgundy, and a sliver of your
dark penetrating profile.
Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 