Contributor: Paula Ray
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Last night my skin was thin:
translucent, smooth, and veined,
iridescent dragonfly wings--
my fragile shield.
There was no fear of ripping,
tearing chiffon overlay
he gently bathed:
lathered with a cashmere-tongue.
Out of my mouth they flew--
snowflakes of powered lace,
dancing with condensation--
heated vows stretched
the length of my body and beyond.
Cherry blossoms fell from his lips:
pink promises landed in steams
flowing from my happy dark eyes
shining--I knew, I knew.
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Paula Ray chews words and blows them like bubbles. Sometimes they pop in her face and get embedded in her hair. Other times, they splatter on the screen in front of her and litter literary zines. When she isn't pushing letters around, she plays instruments and attempts to bring the dead ones back to life and find good homes for them in area schools with low budgets and high student populations. Her poetry and fiction has appeared in: Weirdyear, Word Riot, elimae, and many other wordy places. Visit her blog: http://musicalpencil.blogspot.com/
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