(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)
By Pavel Chichikov
A finger-touch she walks across my hand
Excites the hairs and bends her striped abdomen,
Voracious eyes, goggles black as honey
Sweep slanted back, her shadow is a gnomon
On my flesh:
Stand still you false reprieves,
Clouds moving, milk of cow-moons forming,
North winds, exhausted leaves –
Her wings are metronomic, synchronized,
Her waist seductively beguiling flexed,
Her ovipositer a sting of quivers
Her legs the booty of a land annexed
We have in common death, though she
With glossy and exquisite armor betters me,
Great strength no way diminishing agility –
And if she would in heaven share my place
I'd give my hand for her to wash her face
And dip my thumb in honey to refresh her grace