in the wake of fantasía

his lips would taste of lime
and crushed mint……warm like añejo rum

his kisses, poetry
Neruda nuzzled between breasts
Cortázar caressing pale thighs

afternoons in the shade of
palm trees, shutters barely
masking heat and storm

full to the margin,
neverending like Márquez
words spilled on silk

the air sweet and
heavy like tobacco
in the aftermath……red wine

Hemingway read out loud
ripe fruits on a platter, dripping

Poem ©2016, Jen Payne. Image: Woman with Fruit, Walasse Ting.

4 thoughts on “in the wake of fantasía

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