Read Write Prompt #12: Dressing Up Your Poetry
For Bast.
Attempted in the Villanelle form.
I love
The way that silk kisses my skin;
The thousand feathers of a dove.
Alone, trapped in my rosy cove,
I dance in skirts - I spin;
I love.
The smallest of children’s gloves,
Patterned; the size of a pin.
The thousand feathers of a dove.
In the bustling streets, I do not shove.
I dance; I swallow scalding gin;
I love.
I am the sunlight streaming down from above,
I laugh, I fuck, I devour sin;
The thousand feathers of a dove.
I glow softly from the inside; I surround myself in golden love;
I am the collective: the yang and the yin.
I love
The thousand feathers of a dove
