bedroom tales II #poetry


lay in the bed, my king

the night is deep

narcissi are in bloom

and aromatic wine long went to sleep

enclosed into the amphorae’s hips

cross your hands

under your head

let your liquid soul

meet mine into my estuaries’ dreams

i will make sure

the moon rises in sky

i will anoint your feet

with heavy scented hip rose oil

and like Scheherazade

i’ll spend the night

whisperings tales that have no end

now listen

my eyes are heavy

my love is in humid bloom

and far in the horizon

between the earth and sky

breathes an orange moon.


Narcissism is not inspirational. Narcissi are.