NewPoetry

Imogene Mahalia

blues reds and browns intermingle
with wet scents spread by the wind.

There is music. It begins to rain:
I’m stood at a cliff’s edge watching

the deep blue waves below, swaying
back and forth, and back and forth.

I hear music. I fall off the cliff.
I’m dancing with a girl wearing

a deep blue dress. We’re swaying
back and forth, and back and forth.

We relish the sensation of sloppy
kisses on the backs of our necks

sunbeams’ saliva
trickling down our backs

we stare at the sky, and beg
the other stars to show themselves.

I hear music. I kiss her.