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Potomac Dreams of André Breton
By Rudolph Lewis
In the
half-light of red mullet forests
with cigarette
paper leaves, I'm a mouth
of all-spice.
Blue & broken, turning pale
her peach belly
presses against my heart.
Earth is filled
with reflections deeper
than water
shaken off its shell. I’m
naked as
precious gems in a frightening
ocean of fireworks.
Like sun shells of sea
urchins, a
living jewel box of velvet sky
leaves shines as
a dragonfly shuts
my eyes. Two breasts crash down
like rose petals
in a valley of perfume
Night bells
ring. Adoration sends my lips
to her thighs. My finger pops a symphony
of oohs &
aahs. In a mirror, she's a grotto
of streaming
lightning stretched out naked on
the bed. Elderberry balls bounce, hum above
her breath. Her
blood is crazed juggling
shadows. She's a
little girl caught in the bellows
of sparkles, a
jumping rope long enough that
one green
butterfly haunts the invisible
stairway. I
caress her melodious hissing
limbs. I spill
forth like a living fountain
water flowing down the mountain sides. |