Wednesday, April 20, 2016


Dawne


Ramon, your Spanish poem
folded in my back pocket
makes my skin warm
heat and more heat

until finally I find someone
(the woman from Peru
who cleans Gwen’s house)
to translate:

The bees make love
                  to the flowers
get drunk on the nectar
                  and lost in the air.
I could lie next to you
                  hour after hour
drunk on your lips
                  with my fingers lost in your hair.

2 comments:

  1. what a lovely, sensual, teasing bit of poetry :-)

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  2. I read this many years ago. I have never forgotten the words to this!!

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