Monday, August 08, 2005
Carousel
We turn ‘round and ‘round
as though we are coffee and sugar—
stirred patiently for a perfect blend
of black acrid sweetness.
You bat your eyelashes once in a while
but you seem to remain
afloat—flying away
like smoke through thin air.
My hands take you closer.
_____________________________ Slowly we move.
Every restrained inch
is a delicate play of words
that dwindle in this gentle spinning.
Your face turns by the second
—taken by my hands that stir the spoon—
as you travel from your end to mine.
And your eyes burn still
—warm and pure—
their temperature rising with the faint wisps
of coffee-sugar smoke.
You let the serenity of the warm wind kiss you.
And you run your fingers through my hair.
(They say coffee tastes better when stirred properly
and mixed with a conservative amount of sugar.
I stir mine slow and I want it extra sweet.)
We continue stirring for that exact brew—
that black acrid sweetness—
for a smell of that heavenly aroma,
for our eternally warring bodies,
for our turning that needs no haste.
This twirling is a long subtle foreplay
that doesn’t end in sweaty orgasms.
It can go on and on.
As long as our night desires.
As long as we turn 'round and round
like coffee and sugar—
stirred patiently and perfectly
for a taste we acquired
for black acrid sweetness.
*****
In my room, 11:30 am
(02/27/05)
Matanda na ang tulang 'to. Muntikan nang dumiretso sa imbakan. Salamat kay Rosvie, Ergoe, Ulan, Ron, at Van.