Blood origin stains
Bucharest to Budapest corridor
I, a dusky cocktail shaker of Romani
Transylvanian Dragon
And a hint of Hun
Jewelry of choice
Pungent garlic garlands
Neckerchief hiding vulnerable spots
Wild wolves leaping
Through unshuttered windows
Where babies in baskets
Dream on the cold wood stove
Mother rarely sleeping
Until children of age
To self-protect
All those years
You stood outside
Waiting for me to be
Old enough for you
And I knew
How wrong
How good
Your lips felt
Secret bruise throbbing
Under my fringed shawl
Skin growing paler with each taste
Then one night
Unspeakable delight
Lying on icy stone
Never to return home
Eternal bliss with you…
© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Budapest abandoned house (FB post)
Thanks for the reblog, Steve!
LikeLiked by 1 person