23 January 2008, 10:15 PM
Beloved is taking a poetry class which, sadly, I am unable to attend because of the time when they meet. This was yesterday's assignment: To write a poem using descriptors that originate from senses other than sight- in other words, sounds, tastes, smells and tactile sensations.
Crackle-snap scent of sulfur
and nearly fireproof, unseasoned wood
finally burning,
its virtue seeps through satin and silk
as story spans the distance
whence you longed for a listener,
whither I yearned to hear what goodness,
what light might be borne upon every word.
Chenille drapes heavy as my eyelids,
caramel and crème linger hot on my tongue.
I drift through sandalwood—
sultry,
soft,
silent.
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