A beach wooden bar
Clouded by cigar’s smoke and dark fantasy
A black woman in deep purple satin
Sings a jazz serenades in ecstasy
Look at her and sense the taste of pomegranate
The inner flame needs to be extinguished
She says: Hon, u’re a muse of this hopeless planet
Barely understand her, broken English
She strokes my gilded tan hips.
She pours me an glass of aged whisky
Pepperly burnt my chapped lips.
By the singer's kisses or I’m bit tipsy
Or by the feeling of inner knots
By the understanding “someone needs me”
With thin fingers, with dresses instead of thoughts
With a soul like an endless sea
Needs my kisses, wants me to touch
Loves an essence of me, even when I'm too much*
Taste of pomegranate
© Copyright: Аксинья Шустер, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121011808614
Свидетельство о публикации №121011808614
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