Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Frying Pan Dreamers

We lie like two fat sausages
glistening in our wrap of blankets.

I hold you in a frame of light
against the shadows, and you hold me -

safe from all sweet terrors
of the lord of dreams.

A twist of salt flavours us,
sizzles white the sheets,
like a bed of purification.

And when the pan is too hot,
who will jump first into the fire?

2 Comments:

Blogger keros said...

Hi Moon- Very nice poem. Enjoyed reading it, specially the last two lines.

4:05 AM  
Blogger burning moon said...

cheers mate. thanks for that

3:37 PM  

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