She Plays Accordion While Dancing In Skirt






her nipples ready for war 

beneath the fieried sky 

it purrs cackle of mating crows like sunlit orchard cauldrons 


the rounded bellies of hills bloodened yellow like once oranges

pry loose the bluey autumn push deep into themselves

innocent bird song and meadow 

drip down curves gushing her hands slide along

slow the unwilling willing one she dreams unable to resist dissolves


her legs press like music 

a butterfly flutter is born up indigenous always a      

fury of planets is rapture, for the bondage of math is illusion 


there are gentle airs the mountains keep

I have held my arms round heat of ovens felt the rocks of doused campfires 

where fledglings find first flight just as ground hums up

stopped by the warmed stones that throw outward bound dreams, stone

the starry dots of night have gazed monkishlike upon ––

there is only the morning star in a mirror



you laugh, dancer, your skirt, your accordion, its insinuations,

your hips!  dance with me, also, please.


  











   


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DannyBeatty
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