Beautiful Halves

You rock me wildly
To the black rhythms of juju music from the radio;
Drinking horn in hand.
Not too drunk to tread
The course of blue, warmth
And moaning shadows behind batiste curtain.
Waves crashing beneath your waist beads
Ripples tickling the reeds of your hair.
An eye is caught watching through
The chink of the half-timbered wall.
Coyly, you put off the oil lamp.

Tonight woman,
You smell of sweet sin.
I could watch that smile
Into the gates of hell.
O the juice of your bait
With the scent of your sweated melanin skin!

Night is beautiful
With your passions untamed
And your rosy poetry
Seeping through your life-giving breath to every sensual cell.
Its hard to strain on the leash
Its more comely to be wild.

Its black and white except for the butterflies that fly in your eyes
And the rainbow in mine
That even now reflects in your face by this smile, vaguely.
It is a wonder how you uncloak
The man within to reveal the lips bite of this hard life.
Your finger is rich with finds.
I'm not so careful. Call it savoir faire?
If you've seen enough to make you run away.
Keep the questions coming.

You hang me in the gallows of your stoney stare -
your fingers sliding into pretence as you carress my face.
Pushing me to the wall
You feel for the second layer.
Crossly, you pull it off
To stand face to face with half a man whose footprints you trace
walking out the bolted door.
Through the venetian blind you find the other half full
With the bethrothed of the village chief.
Woman that never would be mine.
You're jealous of the woman in my head?

You feel for my heart
Its rhythms not themed of love for you.
Lips not a beat in sync with all I swore
The moon I lassoed unto your laps deflates like a hot air balloon.
Dream of us like a canvass of waterpaint washes under the downpour of
your tears.
Your azure turns leaden.
A brooding silence
Brings my tongue confessions unspoken.

Indifferent, I taste Bacchus in your mouth
As our tongues twined like jolly serpents
While I sail the Snake River of your spine
Invoking the madness that would spice the night
And would make memory lane worth traveling on.

You lick me only looking for love bites you never found.
You must have thought she is a nun.
You smell the borders of my bushy chest like a lion for foreign scents.
Woman, your love is territorial!

You turn down the volume
Kissing me down to my navel with your fangs
Strumming my sacred strings with deadly claws.
The darkness can not hide you now
This is the hour of revelation.
The veil of your temple tears apart to reveal ashes that were poems in
your censers of 'not-my-kind-of-man'
To the one you love that never loves you back.
His smile was all the rhymes the muse never gave me.
My discovery was lime
melting a fat of lies.
You turn thin enough
To disappear into thin air.

Music ends, kicked over
By your feet.
Too flared up to put on your roseate gown
You walk out the
Door from my life left always ajar
Into the dark wearing you sackcloth.
It occurred to me arithmetic was the answer.
Halves makes one!

Woman, it is not good
you're are leaving me stranded.
Never knew the night was this cold.

Cock crows at dawn with you weeping at my doorstep.
Woman did not sleep
She found mathematics.

Music pours from radio.
Halves meet.

- Martins Deep

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