the lighting of candles

it is not time for
candles or crafted thinking, light
there is still
an air in the day
a coming of lovers toasting
their brown skin, offering their
orgasm to fountain
a youthful cupid, cast and fluted

i sit on metal, a chair black
and curved, i watch the lovers
lust for, loath the one
before them - i line mine, each
lover against the timing
of the day
they have curved places
of their own - distant but real
real, touchable,
untouchable

we remember staircases dark
and full, delightful lies
and lips red with wet, wined
and worthy of our nature
natural
we were, each
us
tested and tossed, cotton my dressing
cotton the sheeting, behind
lace, behind curtains untamed
un-tamable

i lift my glass, i lift
my life to them, to love
to the fountain fluted

ah! love, Yes (to you)you
ah! love, No

it is not time for candles
it is not time for sealing to amber these sentiments
of loving
lift your glass you who are lovers
all you who love, have loved
(will love)
for the sake of its pulling, for the sake
of its passion
its sorrow, for the sake of its
dying in the lighting
of candles

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2012