Artwork Sourced From Google. Artist: Unknown.
Braille
by Antonio Rocco S. (Rocco Valentini)
She's an ebony hourglass that walks the sand In a white linen dress as sheer as her soul. She whispers secrets to the waves, Secrets washed away, Along with the traces of her soles. The cool of the ocean breeze Gives her goosebumps That rise on her skin like verses And my hands long to read her body As if it were a poem written in Braille. ⠗ ⠕ ⠉ ⠉ ⠕⠀⠧ ⠁ ⠇ ⠑ ⠝ ⠞ ⠊ ⠝ ⠊ Women with full figures Hold deep truths And sometimes the truth Is too deep For water that is shallow. We exchange minds As effortlessly as the wind Trades grains of sand And her smile is like aloe vera For my sunburned soul. ⠗ ⠕ ⠉ ⠉ ⠕⠀⠧ ⠁ ⠇ ⠑ ⠝ ⠞ ⠊ ⠝ ⠊ Like the Queen of Sheba, She questions my manhood With a gaze as sharp as her wit, Laying me down On a dune by the shore. The white linen dress Now draped around her ankles Is not a flag of surrender, It is a banner, And I kneel beneath it. ⠗ ⠕ ⠉ ⠉ ⠕⠀⠧ ⠁ ⠇ ⠑ ⠝ ⠞ ⠊ ⠝ ⠊ Beneath her, I tremble, She steadies me with her hands, Her voice, Her weight. Between exhausted sighs And beads of sweat mingling with saltwater, I come to the realization that I am hers. I kiss her seal And rise, not a king or prince, But her devoted subject. ⠗ ⠕ ⠉ ⠉ ⠕⠀⠧ ⠁ ⠇ ⠑ ⠝ ⠞ ⠊ ⠝ ⠊ I move into her castle and discover the hallway Lined with portraits of her former lovers. Other men had clung to her flesh, But never to her spirit. They had been jesters in her court, They had entertained her; She had played with their bells, They had entered her many times, But their names were never written on her As mine is, in Braille.