Liberatore Suffoletta

Rookie - 8 Points (July 2,1948 / Pettorano Sul Gizio, L'Aquila, Abruzzi, Italy)

Modern Love Xxviii (The Shy Moon Wants To Anchor) - Poem by Liberatore Suffoletta

Intuitive woman, eyes of dancing fireflies
Shoulders of silver hidden in rocks
Lips of a butterfly opening wings
Summer arrived in your hair of yellow flowers
And the orchard where love used to live
Breast of doves sleeping like poppies
Animated hands of flowing ampersand
Tongue of rivers never sailed, never swum
Face of angels spinning in delight
This morning orange sun anointed
flocks of blue grey seagulls
To graze in your garden of gilded lilies
still water, warm and sparking
Black and yellow butterflies
perched on red roses of fidelity
of trust, of vulnerability
The shy moon wants to kiss you
Wants to anchor in you harbor
Wants to wax and wane in your arms
Wants to become ashes that you stir
Like yellow garlands climbing green trees
Like the orange sun you created today,
Just by opening your hands
Just by brushing your hair
Just by smiling in a mirror
Just by laughing
sending seagulls from your mouth
to make tracks on beaches
that disappear when they stretch
their wings and take flight
in ports that no longer exist
Like the seagulls anointed
by this morning’s sun
grazing on the dew
in your garden
Intuitive woman, eyes of dancing fireflies
Flexible legs of steel revealing a gold mine
The orange sun is jealous of the horizon
You create when your doves awake
When you part your full lips of hope
When you open your steely legs
And reveal the daylight in your throat
The gold in your mine
Where no sun can reach
Where no shadows play
Where all words are formed
Intuitive woman, eyes of dancing fireflies
White clad temptress of all desires
Neck of a swan creating birth
Come to me naked, innocent and dreaming
Let my shadow become yours
Let me dropp this sad anchor
in the depths of your joyous harbor
Let my ship rest on your shore
Let my sail fill in your wind
Let my river enter your ocean
Let my manhood flower in your garden
Take the sadness the blushing jealous sun feels
Upon seeing your doves, your butterfly
Your silver, your gold
You walking away
Take the agony of this hopeful morning
And create a gift of yellow perfume
of daylight, an awakening of life
amidst the bones of all the dead seagulls
singing to the forgotten moon

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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 28, 2009

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