rolled in smoke and sun

kept under the tongue

By R.C. TaylorPublished 2 years ago • Updated 2 years ago • 1 min read

roll my body up like cigarette paper, tobacco slid against your nose

drink me up like steeping tea, bergamot inhaled slowly with eyes closed

then sing all that I am to sleep underneath the hollow of your collarbone

name nothing more than a burning secret you keep safe under your tongue

paint me how watercolors looked when they ate the setting sun

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Enjoyed? This poem was created for the following challenge:

I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.

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