Dark Lady Poetry - Mark Navarro

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Mark Navarro

Stage Fright

i slipped from the rhythms
(over your crimson bed)
out where the cry
of your alto came ringing
over the groans
of my baritenor
you grabbed the slipping hips
tripping over thumping breath—
the apex of our championed
burns—dousing those lips
ingenious, sovereign in
our wake—my wake not
light, unequivocal in darkness
with royal sheerness:
no trumpets blaring
until i came blaring
over the rough manners
you reformed from me
back over to politeness
to restore those rhythms

Strings

the pluck

pluck

of your harp strings

under my thumbs

thumping

my fingers

picking

my mouth

moving

your sounds

crooning

to the rhythm of my

plucking

the whiteness glow;

the whiteness glow;

the one that you know drapes over

your breasts, your naked torso

as it sits contemplating upon your dear, dear bed

your delicate little fingers brush through

the redwood forest that is your hair:

truly your eyes can meet the screen

which you ponder softly within your head

still you naked and i naked makes so many things

that take us out of that whiteness glow:

the day gone, but our night still infantile

as it lays down pressed against a pillow of oak

and i am pressed against the pillow of your redwood hair—

the splendors heightened sweetly by the whiteness glow

Mark Navarro is in the process of earning a B.A. in English Language & Literature from University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. He is the President of the Undergraduate English Association. His website: http://www-umich.edu/~manava/marknavarro