Barbara, this is a very sensual poem, and one that works beautifully. I keep
thinking of "The Lion King," but of course you don't want that for your
title! What about "A Continent Remembered"? Well, it's a thought. Sue
<<
I wonder if it is the way you pace
back and forth soft pawed by the window
that makes me think of home.
You watch for me to reappear,
a lion on the hunt.
Or maybe it's the way your nostrils flair
that brings to mind the gazelle standing alert,
knowing it's being watched
every sinew- tense, waiting, aware.
I map out beneath my fingertips
the dusty plains of the Serengeti,
feel along your spine and hips
the urgency of the dry season,
poised for the rains.
The heat of you soaks my skin,
consumes me like a bushfire,
finally stretches me lazy and spent,
a lizard on the windowsill,
limbs languid and still.
I smell in you the raw nerves
of Africa unleashed,
close my eyes, breath deep
and dream of home.
BBO
3/3/03 >>
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