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Bois de Boulogne


by R. B. S.


A portrait of streetless love


Parboiled coitus
in dark mint; fallen hair
and gloved laughter;
gutter leather of bodies walking:
The wicked & the hush'd.
A surge of bark
and florid water; cascades, torn.
A brittle riot
of soft wired storms  - Sold.
Mona  Lisa, or her smile?
Legs hushed. Figures run-low on 
mouths, recalibrate ions;
strung to our primal moons
skin commences inwords.

 
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