skin | Golden Star Poetry

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.

Golden Star Poetry