Lips, By Arvind Venkat
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Lips, By Arvind Venkat

Lips, By Arvind Venkat

Words—they come out—a blazing golden 

Showering refulgence upon this night

Out from the winter’s waning crescent—

An altering air of mystery. 

In pebbled syllables—tossing and rippling, 

Trembling and flirting—

And constantly vibrating

Upon this heart they merrily flow.


Freshly coated—some pink upon pink 

Jewelry—or a painting itself 

Resting upon the innocent face 

A portal to the heart. 


Of frozen flesh—turgid and whole

Much like a fruit—a raisin — 

Sweetly stirring the wine pubescent 

And begging me to explore; 

Then creasing out at O’s—utterances wide 

Scissoring away kept memories. 

I wonder of what more—but this 

If any, can a wonder be.