The Memory Castle by Theresa C. Newbill
My body is a memory castle
where dormant handprints mark
an eclipse of rising waves
that fondle pink breasts with
the detail you crave.
Our white breath in the dark
rustling through the rough-dangle of
our arms embrace hushed by the slow
disintegration of sunlight couched over
twilight, incites tranquility.
I am the smallest particle of matter
sea shelled in the rhythmic meter of your
universe, condemned to drown in the
celestial monastery built around the torture
of reckless abandon.
You pinch at the thumbprints and rake through
soft thighs inflicting a whimsy of sweet milk
that subsides as you procure your pleasure
from the inviolable flower, unfolding. Our spirits
earn this place, all love travels through time.
My body now pares and permeates with the
moon-burned splendor of your sweat as I view
the art of your lurking soul, visible
in the currents of water that move with slow stride,
warm, with deep motion.
