feathers.

 

When I think of you

I feel feathers

Tickling the soles

Of my feet.

They feel like

Turquoise feathers

Long, lush, soft.

I think maybe

They’re feathers from a fan

And each spoke of the fan

Is studded with pearls

And opal spangles.

And then . . . .

You make my toes curl.

 

Palomino.

 

And there are gilded balusters

And flying buttresses

And I sweep through

On a levitating carpet

Embroidered with swans and angels

And a palomino is stamping

In gentle impatience

For me to take

The next stage of the journey

Off off we go

My gentle palomino

Slipping through the gateway

Where the sun's rays are gleaming . . .

Like a fan.