Give Me More
Stretching open I feel
exactly how I want to.
The fear makes me tremble
but want feverishly.
The moon is not full.
I am not wild now.
and I roll into memories that daze me.
I feel my mouth still full
of kisses and sweet fruit.
The loneliness is both cruel and dear.
Can I be your earth for a while?
Can I feel shared instead of taken?
There could be merriment
and fire as deep as bone.
Burying my cheek between your
the cold mud seeped
through the feet of my stockings.
They watched in heat
our swift, mocking dance
and ran their tongues along the roofs of their mouths.
we were not each other’s lovers at all.
we were each only lovers
with shifting words for human nature
and one shivering heart.
Shady Evenings in Early Spring
Drenched in rainwater
pressing cold fingers to
small thighs sticking
to your ribcage.
-The leaves were in my hair for days –
but my daffodils finally bloomed by the beach trees.
Shakti Sackett is a Virginia-born and raised writer and photographer, based out of Antigua, Guatmela, Guatemala. She writes material typically drawn from dreams and those memories so thin you have to grasp them as gently as they come to you to write them down.
Image by Michal Klajban, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
Author photo by Bienvenido Cruz.