© Sauce*Box, Fall 1996.
All rights revert to author.
paint on the sand
by John P. Onorato
Legs at your sides
knees drawn up
resounding to a drum-
beat
sex exposed, you wait
for the command
your whole land
stretches before me
ah..
I reach for my wine
tounge swirling the glass
heart open to the sun
my wine is made of tears
they're your tears
and I drop it on your skin
you wait
you quiver
for me
I see you
you're in your mind
trying not to let
your hands reach
as I look, watch
wait, patience of a cat.
I hear you, crying
wanting to touch you,
touch me,
touch anything,
anything to
stop the wait.
Stop the waves
from just lapping on the shore
you want them to crash
over you, over me
feel the waves
be the waves
even if only for a short time
but you wait,
wait for my command.
And I open my mouth,
finally
I say one word
I think of you
when I say
"Go"
* * * * *
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