Her Velvet Glove


I woke up alone again this morning 
It felt like you wanted me to
like I was crawling through miles of sand
and I could not reach you
to say what I feel right now

I know those words
that are tinged
in coral creamy rings
that cling upon my skin
reminding me - of conversations
that bled into a deeper reality

it is that reality that I want, I am faced
and shell shocked at needing anyone,
any woman Like I do this way
but those words are the charcoal mark
that purifies and holds me

leading me on into the light of today
that is where I stand-
beyond the painted frosted windows
of yesterday’s storms

but these words
are not those remembered in coral rings
nor of past storms, but the water sign
of a woman's essence-
that is gentle soft and pure

of long remembering-
afternoons that turn west to sleep
and turns again into the sun
they are the words for all things considered
in all times-

they are moments that inspire and breathe
reminding me of the warmth-
soft like a velvet glove slipped over the hand
velvet words spoken by touch

they are the words we own to touch
in the room that was still not yet ours
because you need to, I woke alone
wild, and strewn about me

your guitar, shoes, laptop, tops and jeans
jammed with mine, the velvet glove
partially touching each word
in the room-
that was was not yet ours

we feel our way through touch and words
that fall upon the skin-
clothed in sunrises and the moons silver tinge
in a room full of heavy breaths
humid and fragrant
a delicately breathed-
up heaving
filled with living music that beats
a throbbing dance
within me

words breathed against your thighs
buried in hilly images
visible across the open doorway
moving in and through the delicate prose
that weaves sensually-rising steadily
through the worded hallway

as I write the rhythms, in your flesh

the throbbing beat-
speaks in telepathy

crossing clean cotton shirts
with folded sleeves
pushed back
scented with cologne
the amber bottled of words now unsealed

as one to the other, your wine is poured
out on my naked mind and un-gloved hand
those words, now our poetry,
in the open room,
where we no longer sleep alone

by; dannigirl933

Posted; 2/8/2020

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patriciajj's picture

Brilliance and more

Brilliance and more brilliance, this is a torrent of everything poetry should be. Exquisite in construction and miraculous in its expression of what so many find impossible to express (the oneness that results from a meaningful union), this stands out as true art. Amazing. 

dannigirl933's picture

I am stunned by the comement,

I am stunned by the comement, made my heart sing here. Thank you, THANK YOU so much.  Daniella

Daniella Nikolayeva

Starward's picture

I am so stunned by the deep

I am so stunned by the deep emotion of this poem, and the exquisite imagery used to express it, that I can hardly find the right words.  Very few poems affect me like this, and it takes almost a cosmic jolt to silence me.  But in the presence of this poem, which I will deinitely be revisiting (both to enjoy, and to study), I think a respectful silence, due to soulfelt response, is the only appropriate response.  I will say this, and I have said it about only a few poems:  I have been reading poetry since April of 1973, and in that length of years I have rarely found, even among the ancient classics, poems that affect me, as a reader and a poet, like this one does.  I applaud your magnificent accomplishment here, and I believe this is now the main centerpiece of your entire collection.  I even envy the poem, and I believe I can learn from it.  And now, having been verbose, I shall resume my respectful silence and continue to enjoy this superlative work of erotic verse.  Bookmarking it, I anticipate many more visits to it.


dannigirl933's picture

Starward, I honestly do not

Starward, I honestly do not know how to say thank for this stunning review, except to say thank you a thousands times over. I am touched truelly.

~ Daniella, in London

Daniella Nikolayeva

Starward's picture

My pleasure.  ( have just

My pleasure.  ( have just revisited the poem to revel again in your magnificent use of imagery to express profound emotion.  In a way, I wish this poem had existed forty-seven years ago when I first began to read poetry---it would have put me ahead of the learning curve, well ahead!  But, paradoxically, I think that, at my age, I can appreciate it far more now than back then in my youth.