Some Days; Indifference

Some days, sweet
and gentle, her fingers
stroke the back of his neck -
she whispers love
and beauty and pain
in his ear;

She conjures
verse
from thin air.

Some days
she morphs - the great dragon
bathing him
in his, in her, in their,
living flame of passion.
The mind blanks
on those days -
conscious thought
fades and a world disappears
into the cauldron of creation -
and her word.

Some days, hours, weeks,
months even she flits
across the periphery
of his vision
casually ignoring his pleading cry
for the poetry which sustains
and starves

while she remains -

Silent -

indifferent.

_(09-15-2010)