Lorenzo Costigliolo Poems

The beauty of the Rose
by any other name
would be as sweet its scent
as its redolent essence is
...

Cornucopia, undulating dough,
finger-laden flour power flow
on flat plate laid, hard-pummeled
pound ‘n’ ground, ply ‘n’ fly
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Statuesque
quaint roses, daily calls
love notes, sly looks
bright eyes, flashing lashes
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The visions behind closed lids
kaleidoscope of colors
blending hues of me into
vibrant hues of you
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Two stranger meet
intentions both unknown
to each no name no dates
of age nor place of birth
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I tasted just a morsel of your feast
when tongue and fingers launched their fierce attack
upon your succulent buffet, released
at once between your lips, while on your back.
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The hunter looking for his prey
took refuge on his tree
waiting - waiting - she on the way?
(The prey was you, the hunter me.)
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When first I lost my sight,
my universe went dark obscure
blackest pitch of night
lit by dim memories
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In danceless steps you twirl with angel’s wings,
my eager self still reaching for your hand,
your arms, your anxious self, concentric rings,
your stepless dance with me, without demand
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Cloud cover pinhole view
instant
nanosecond shutter speed
two victims on trial for their lives
...