Gently, Aphrodite

Tossing strands,
indigo-black curled
molasses
sticking
to shape.
Ticking,
and lash the
spectrum.
Tamed each colour
but still holding
them with
electric
flirtation.

Length and strength
in a femur bitten
and bent to grace.
And that can mean no ill
wind to your frame,
trained to climb the air
with its silkbud
fingers straining through and through.

Shiver in response,
a ghost in the rise
of poisonous 'lashes,
the waking of surprise
as it's clearer.
There's something about her
shade, cast off
thick as the scent of
fear, and perfume
nearly rhymes with curve.

So gently, Aphrodite;
take their glances inwards.
French-plait twisted,
waiting on the return of admiration,
perhaps,
or simply gliding
between
feeling
and
longing.

Her breath,
mingling connectively
with the freelancing
spirals of dandelion emigrants;
the dull warmth contained
in her cheeks
and elsewhere
will not be
prevented.

It will be wildly.

AN:

Written instead of my psychology essay. Oops.

for
Ga Ling; again, playful&clever
Naomi; obviously

Jh 1/02/06