Contributor: Michael Gabriel

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Dark
The movements, the curves of lucent light
Smiling moon curve set in night lips
The dance of stars in her breath,
Sweet, warm breezes
To tickle my hair,
My face
Make me laugh
Make me breathe
Make me need
Make me love.

Dark
Finger branches touch skin,
Call parts of me to attention,
As she drops over me, replaces light with night
And breathes
Oh so gently
Breathes
So gently
Whispers
Tickles
My ear.


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I was fighting for interracial marriage before it was cool.