Saturday, February 28, 2009


Under waxing gibous moon, I pad across silk sands,
Stand atop a shore-worn stone.
Angry sea tugs at Poseidon's reigns,
But I am out of reach.
Crests wink in and out.
A storm may brew and cover the moon.
The storm contains no fury like
Goes through my veins.
Disguised by the wind you are suddenly at my nape,
And I writhe in ecstasy, your slave evermore.


Blogger jobwich said...

Slave to none. Any sentient being worthy of sharing that rocky shore, should find that place, earned, and hard won at that.

8:45 AM  
Blogger Apollo's Mermaid said...

Ah, well. Maybe in one of these lives, he'll show up, and I'll be deserving of it.

1:07 PM  

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