Tropical Noir Poem by Sonny Rainshine
Tropical Noir
The night held the consistency of Turkish coffee,
dense, deep, heavy, viscous. They kiss
beneath the sinewy bougainvillea vines, drinking
up the cascading passion and the mingled scent
of frangipani and sweat.
Her husband was back at the hotel,
he wouldn’t mind,
being dead and all.
Like a jaguar she purred
and lit her Lucky Strike
with a hundred dollar bill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/12/2024 4:30:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
