Curves and flesh

Today’s “Tantalizing Tuesday” theme in my Facebook group brought forth two noteworhthy poems, among other notable fiction.

This first one is a flash poem by Suzana Wylie (Susan Wylie Wilson), based on this image of a Fibonacci curl of a staircase:

Spiral

Counting up and counting down the staircase goes both ways
A conveyor belt it seems for to and fro are seamless
No barriers there to force us on to where the others wait
Just on and on as Dylan said, no rest for wearied feet,
No direction home, no way to go, no relief-spawned sigh
No slate gray roof to wave us in atop the trees.
Curling in—or out, perhaps—becoming tight and tighter
Wrapping in gray concrete and strips of birch
No place to stand and stop us here.
No place to twirl the wrapping warping off
No place to call him home.

 

The second is a fragment of a longer poem by Lou Sylvestre.  The poem, from “Winter Down, Spring Dreams,”  appears in an antho called Love Notes (Vagabondage Press 2012; image is from Morguefile, by Dodgerton Skillhause).

 

Sometime
In August blaze,
Having the freedom to love,
We’ll hike the cool woods. On our backs we’ll carry ripe pink peaches
And a soft-worn hand-stitched quilt. We’ll know our place,
Where pines
Stand tall guard, and maples
Coax from sunlight gilded rays,
Bowls of yellow heat. Liquid light
Will dapple
Our wild skins like spotted flanks of plains horses.
We’ll eat peaches, hungry.
Like horses,
Lick salt skin.
Like birds, make of love a song.
And sleep replete with peach flesh.

 

Thanks very much, Su and Lou. ‘Tis not at all ironic that your names rhyme. 😀