Saigon Red

She’s wearing my shade––
Saigon Red,
a stop sign against cotton skin.

Across the crowded event,
her well-preserved porcelains,
a dress like french architecture––
spongy stucco below an arched updo.
Her glances, cherry firewood.

I smell, sip, then slurp an oyster
watching the evening’s pearl.
Oh, how I long to shuck her.
Call it drug addiction, but my new mission
is to reunite these orphan twins.

I’ll play the beggar with a familiar grin.
Mouths may be prophets, and
we will absolve each other’s sins.

As she approaches,
I can barely veil my veneration,
strike up conversation
until the tender sparks
connect our mouths.

Color reincarnation.

© 2023 | K. Hartless


Written for Art of Seduction 3/22 

20 comments

  1. What a vivid and sensual poem. These lines are just so good:
    “Mouths may be prophets, and
    we will absolve each other’s sins”
    ❤️❤️❤️

    Like

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