Lois Read

Skin the Poet Laureate

Skin has a new voice
learned from the sun,
from sky, from chill winds
tactile language, left

when it was made mute
by the fall of the Tower of Babel
when bits of language
letters, words, asterisks, ampersands

oozed out 
through its pores
scattered and fell
in confused disarray.

Today feel it tingle, like
a cell-phone on vibrate
urging you to rub your fingertips
to lean in and listen.

Hear skin shout!
Feel rashes of goosebumps 
warn of danger
unknown, unseen

hear it murmur
when lovers' touch
smooths and soothes
and lotion lathers after a warm bath.

Skin against Skin
the ultimate Ode, sliding
across silk sheets
audible only to the very sensitive.

 
© 2014 Lois Read

The Myth of Sisyphus

There is absolutely no day off
if you sign on
to feed the hummingbirds.
Insatiable
they descend on the feeder
in droves
empty it in seconds
sucking in sugar
to fuel 
their hard-working hearts.


You finish filling all the feeders
sit on the adirondak chair
to watch the show
and they are empty again!
You feel like Sisyphus
watching the rock
roll down the hill
like every mother
attacking endless mounds
of dirty dishes.

Should you sleep in one day
or run out of sugar water
you will see them, 
dozens of them
hover on the feeder's lip
wings blurring as they swoop
over, under, up, down
unbelieving, unforgiving
see them fly off frantically
seeking other food.

Reproach is heavy in the air
heavy as the rock
that never quite stays
on top of the mountain.

 
© 2014 Lois Read

A Gift For the hard to Shop For

Bright morning blue
gift-wraps the honeysuckle
muting musk
the cloying sweet

which transports me back
to Cairo, our guide leading us
through twisted alleys
“My cousins's perfume shop,”

he urges, shoving us into the tiny space
so heavy with scent
breathing comes hard.  To escape
we had to buy a vial

of some exotic aroma
we couldn't imagine wearing
which we would give away
at Christmas to someone

hard to shop for.  A  souvenier, we'd say
of our wonderful trip to Egypt.
We rode a camel, we'd add
as though this made the gift
 
more mysterious, more magical
to be put on that special shelf
to be used when balmy  nights whisper
when seduction seems

inevitable

 
© 2014 Lois Read

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POEM

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© 2014 POET

A Little Poetry

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