Spanish Speaking Lips
My hands drip when you're firm touch comes to them,
and the invading silence of candles
is to much for me to handle
on this night,
and labor pains.
I feel in this moment,
as though I've given birth to you.
To powerfully sweet
to have been created in this world.
I want to trace my fingers
along the rainbow edges of you're Spanish speaking lips
and lap up every syllable of excitement from you're tongue,
to understand you're side of this action
that's flung us together.
Myself a gypsy,
to you're vagabond.
Was it my carpet bag of tricks that reeled you in
or was it the flaxen stone walls divided,
that no longer divide us.
I've spent seventeen blistering winters
away from the light and heat of the world
swallowed up by waterless ports of ivy
Spanish speaking lips came to me.