Musings by The Poet Loriet
Jazz~The Other White Meat
Orange creme liqueur notes
enshroud them together
in loosely flowing tulle,
ethereal on lithe bodies.
They dance cheek to cheek,
hip to undulating hip,
upon a velvet floor
laced with crystalline stars.
Pink tongues slip around
syncopated notes,
blowing sex out of
the necks of
golden saxophones--
chilling the night air
like a snare drum
whisper
on the back of a neck.
She caresses Louis Armstrong's
rose-colored notes to her
heaving bosom,
inhales Boston Creme kisses--
thirsty for a sorbet
to cleanse her
musical palate.
Longingly, she etches each
jazzy note upon her memory
to sing upon awakening
in her mundane
tomorrows.
Lori Beal
enshroud them together
in loosely flowing tulle,
ethereal on lithe bodies.
They dance cheek to cheek,
hip to undulating hip,
upon a velvet floor
laced with crystalline stars.
Pink tongues slip around
syncopated notes,
blowing sex out of
the necks of
golden saxophones--
chilling the night air
like a snare drum
whisper
on the back of a neck.
She caresses Louis Armstrong's
rose-colored notes to her
heaving bosom,
inhales Boston Creme kisses--
thirsty for a sorbet
to cleanse her
musical palate.
Longingly, she etches each
jazzy note upon her memory
to sing upon awakening
in her mundane
tomorrows.
Lori Beal
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Jazz~The Other White Meat
Jazz~The Other White Meat
