Diane
Dehler
June
10, 2013
Sweet
Spot
Dandelion
seeds unfurl a white thistle sky.
She
is dressed as a ballerina in clouds.
Eyes
around her are flounces of poppy petals.
She
is imperturbable beauty, an entire forest of tall trees.
Her
dress: a dream theater and underneath her dress the sweet spot.
They
told me about it.
I
searched for it myself she said; higher, lower…
A
communication that loses itself in its own endeavor for a
body
prefers to understand beyond words.
This
way- that way, your body adjusts itself against mine.
A
wave laps against the seashore, a
merge
of in and out.
You
are as much a part of my body as a lover, sweet spot.
Your
pleasure moist, a mirror of agate soul body,
Agate
smooth skin that always knows the way….
Diane
Dehler
First
published in poetic diversity: the Litzine of Los Angeles, April 2014
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