by Melisande Luna

Created on: May 21, 2007

It was your scent in the sweetened sage air
that rang my bones in the crush of canyon currents,
your headlong dash to press my flesh,

to plant kisses on soft oaken slopes.
as I heaved over flats of poppy-pocked meadows
strutting, thick-calved, puma brown,
sunblessed and deliberate -

every move choreographed so you could trace
the arc of my hips, the lick of my lips,
the silk of my hair on the wind.

frozen:

a tiger's tawny pose to please
a bobcat with a new york grin.

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