By Meghan McCullough
Volume XXXV, Issue 2, March 8, 2013
The berries are swollen, gorged with life
and speckled wet with last night’s sweet
summer rain; they nestle amongst blooming
satin buds and pebble-brown branches.
If you listen closely, cradled within
the sounds of rustling rainbow leaves
and wings aflutter, you will hear the drumming
staccato notes of my heartbeat; it plays
only for you.
My heart bleeds deep red
onto the white porcelain of your palms;
I know it is safe there, though
Wet with dew that shimmers
on dreaming lawns at night
but in the morning, makes slick
and pallid my exposed face,
I kneel before you, stripping myself
of my burdens; they are a dank coat
strewn at your feet.
I am weightless now,
and I float upwards to rest
my tired head – it rings triumphantly
with the memory of your velvet kisses –
on your chest. Your body
is my respite, my haven, my warmth.
And as my leaden eyelids slide
shut, I beg of you:
let me stay here.