Love Poem: Cork In Hand
John Heck Avatar
Written by: John Heck

Cork In Hand

My drapes are drawn tight,
in the morning of our afternoon,
after the fall – beyond the light
of a silent evening spent.
Dusk spits a new shine
upon the facets of my mood ring
and sunrise alarms me again.

Fish hooks evenly lure my smile
into place - when bated breaths
are baited by an anticipated gentry -
and the inverted frown I wear 
stretches undetected 
when performing 
index-fingered handstands 
for the empty allured.

Such a celebration am I.
A firecracker when we kiss.
"The sun sets in his eyes...
succulent, cabbage-red and resplendent…”
Clichéd stammering; dulled 
as you turn your softly curved frame 
into a prisoner's unresolved sensitivities.
Nonetheless...the innocent know -

His touch is real. Feathered, soft -
even when the entranced cripple is sobbing. 
Roman candles sparkle 
within a distant vagabond’s eyes.
Starch him!
Savor the moment!
He'll voluntarily burst forth -
and everything you'd want from
a strayed waif's aorta will be 
auctioned back... 
and eventually sold.  
Like ruby-hued vegetables. 
Like drawn drapes.
Like morning…

when biting your pillow case
neatly grinds waking into the laughable...

…and a forgotten sunrise 
 toasts the unremembered misfit 
 as an invisible champagne cork - pops!