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LA Judge, Editor


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your veil


cloves and cinnamon
beneath
grape leaves

(your body language) tells me
the scent
of your skin
is filled
with spice

you are
like a grain of diamond
in the sand,
extraordinary

a secret glyph of light
beneath
a simple shroud;

a pomegranate
compensating
for a blood-rich inside
with tangible secrecy,
a peel

but I see
above the cinnamon
beneath the grape leaves
your body
glows
like gold

you
deliquesce
into
anonymous
black
you,
the scent of your skin,
your hot matter
enlightens me
of the glamorous
tastes
within

I savor complex
flavors,
I usurp
your
obscurity

my melting
palms
liquid
drenched,
I press (slowly)
your heart
into
my lips
I press slowly
your spice
into my cauldron
loving
thick
exposure

revealing
taste
beneath
the monotone
of tenets

unearthing
flesh
beneath
your skin

Emma Lovelace

For Questions, please contact the VC Magazine Staff at VCMagazine_Staff@yahoogroups.com

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