Stripes of Light on Their Bodies
Through Venetian blinds
stripes of light
on an arm, a leg, an echo
a lithe twisting of bodies
shining in the half
moonlight.
At one o’clock in the morning,
a light rain in Kentucky,
a motorcycle
blasting through the echo
of an open window
under emerging branches
of a catalpa tree.
Inside the window
illumination
of intertwining fingers
a twisting, a lifting, a dance
under papaya
stripes of moonlight,
a memory of a swan
charcoal pencil tracing
the tenderness of a shoulder
the soft touch of your
fingertips.
— Diane Frank
