A Touch of Summer in Winter’s Night

A Touch of Summer

The moon a
dream seeded,
ballast bent,
low slung,
pregnant lady.

The air,
white fire and
popsicle fingers
tantalises temples,
strokes wrists,
caresses pretty
naked throatses.

Frost leaves
sorbet kisses
on frozen grasses,
licks at glass
and nibbles toeses

I love you
on slippery park bench,
our backsides iced,
we skitter, scatter
’round chilly scaffold.

Our mouths magnetic
sweet lipped meetings,
breaths inscribing
crystals blooming,
hot air balloons,
white posies rising.

Hands busy
story- telling
under jackets,
a cold tattooing
on flesh that scorches,
melting marrow
and pinking digits
once rimed
blue and numb
and blunted.

Inside outside,
jacket, jumper,
under padding
clothes steam misting,
a trembling transit
incendiary arctic
cold charged fusion
ice meets fire
moonlit meltdown.

We’re making hay
when sun’s
not shining,
sheathing winter
in summer’s lining.

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