Wednesday, August 3, 2016


Sparks flew once
amidst the shallow,
pale shadows
of how they met long ago.

Molten irons glow
and pounded into shapes;
familiar figures.
Then he pounded further.
Deeper. Longer.

She retreated her sprawl,
back into a curl
and gripped his hair.
bed sheets turn into mountains.
pillow into rafts.

Flares rise
as he lifted her
from the depths
of her sored and soaked longing.

Jay Protacio Mendoza
(1978 -           )

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