The Cave of Hypnos: Early Poems
The Salt Stone
Charles W. Bailey, Jr.
I have licked
the salt stone.
Run mad
as a mushroom cap
bobbing in the rapids
of a dark stream.
Leapt up
the oak ladder
to circle the
crescent moon.
The wind
lies languid
in the ivory caves
of your
morning
mouth.
The dawn wraps
your shadow
turning slowly
towards me.
Copyright © 2012 by Charles W. Bailey, Jr.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.