With swallow lips and darkening pips at the meet of hair to face, skin makes dark little nips of loving and loved and spilt.
The switch of brush through ink, the lub of spill and freckle fill
Follows each reasoned inch, dogs each scissor snip.
Blinking marks a dark tattoo, beating like my heart.
In each and every dotted point, in each and every part.
There are loves which stutter like tooth bites into red and plumping arms
And ones which bubble like blisters under silent grasping palms.
Mine is beating wings,
Cages made to fit,
Dipping, lowing branches
And happy, milky trips.
I care all of me, I crowd my kneecaps blue,
I drop to elbows, chins and cheeks, I cradle all I know.
Pour me as you will
Out of mermaid tail and swallow swoop
Cry me briney teardrops
Catch me in those static hoops
For I am centuries, years ago, cooking with a ladle,
Caught lonely in the light line
Caught still in pouring moment.
The parasol opens out into sky
Dipped like nib or pen
Blue purges white and fans out papered shade.
On my shoulder, over pebbles, from a crows nest far away
Its bobbing marker
Dribs and drags its ragged line,
blots and jogs along the way.
Underneath, the Katakana curdles like ink in rancid milk.
Like the origami newspapers wrapped round fatty fish
Seeping new with oil,
Spelling all the while.
Eyelid, coverlet, lets sun spill through
Lying on the beach, writing letters, letters to you.
Can you spell kingyo? Seven layers of golden fish?
Buttered like marmalade on ear and over tongue,
Knifed one dancing shard after darting orange shred,
Hazarded with silent signs, made through frosted glass
Silent rapid white clean hands making rapid white clean shapes
Swimming oiling rolling curling
in a world of weightless weights?
Can you spell at all my love, holding moon in rigid place?
Whiting out the night time with strong and sturdy grace.
Hedy Lamarr by Martin Munkacsi
14 hours ago