the return of the sun

 

my beach blanket smells of lake plants and sun.

I never knew I had a beach blanket

in these years of body shame

and black and white images

from a life I did not want photographed.

 

now I live in colour

and the whole world smells like sunshine dried clothing

and tastes like orange freezies

and sangria.

 

or the seductive taste of sweet strawberries

or watermelon;

the juices of both,

or either,

running down my chin in dribbles,

reminding me of you

and your sweetness.

 

Now I live in colour

and all I want is to feel the sun on my skin

and smell the heat of the day near water,

fill my head with reggae,

and read a library of books

from the warm sands of some local beach.

 

I want to live Baudelaire by sunset,

whispering his words,

French and all,

to the swooping bats

or

to a beautiful, receptive lover

who will then take me in his arms

and mouth

and love me to collapse under the Milky Way –

our naked, blessed bodies

glistening by starlight to show us what we are truly made of.

 

Now that I feel alive and loved,

I need to taste the sun so often it burns my tongue

so that my words are fire when I speak them

or your mouth ignites when I kiss you

or you burst into flames when I take you in my mouth.

 

I have walked too oft in the shadows these past years,

Now it is time to walk in the sun.

R. L. Elke

©Aug 5/17 prompt 23