Tuesday, January 24, 2012


Should burdens fall softly,
balloons nudging and noddling

their way from your shoulder to the floor;
should feet flutter struggling from their nest of shoes;

should ribs open out like fingers spread
in a “hands-off!” gesture to the flickered sun

(I've read about snakes that fly
by flaring their ribs into glider wings);

then, only then, I'll sink my hands
into your breathing hair and pull them out:

whirring thoughts, pulses of flame,
tendernesses that have no name.


rbarenblat said...

Oh. Oh, Dale. So beautiful.

Kathleen said...

I can see and feel all this! And I love the rhyme at the end.

Anne said...

Yes, lovely rhymes at the end.

Jayne said...

Ah, thank you for reminding me to breathe.

The snake! Really? Sounds more like a dragon. ;)