Lonnie Hicks (www.lonniehicks.com / Chicago Ill)

Blood is the color of my rose,
that's you
my flower.
Red rivers of it flow for you.

Red are the lips which speak to you,
for love is surely crimson too.

Red is the heart which beats for you
surging,
pulsating for you.

I cut my hand,
bite my lip
have your children,
post my burgundy earrings,
apply red nail polish
and toe paints,
wall decorate,
all red-hued
on our glowing nights.

You’re dark mystery
swelling inside my boundaries,
speaking to
that need in me;
my Reds.

You excite me.
I smell you now.
I can feel you walking to me.
I see you in my corner eye.

We are two:
Yellow Love
in the Hammock
outside,
in the deep deep sun
both in the womb.