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Poems
Volume 3 | Issue 3| April 2009 | 










 
Your Hands
George Trialonis
 

I'm jealous of roses and jasmines,
of their lingering fragrance in your hands
and of everything you touch and make or do
with your ivory semaphores of love.

Let your fingers spend your heart's treasure
in prodigal bouts through my hair
and, in closing ranks, run down against
the stubble of my cheeks.

Hold me there, bound by your opiate charm,
until the raging winds of desire bring this hull
of a body to ruin – forever trapped
in the barrier reef of your eyes.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 
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