Autumn Damask

Autumn Damask


Sunday, in the rose garden
we shared a pomegranate,
laughing as the seeds burst
in our mouths
and stained our lips, fingers,
my white t-shirt–
the swan looked on in disapproval
as you took off my clothes.

Cheeks flushed, lips blushed red
from passion’s fruit,
we fell among the thorns,
poked and prodded by lust
until the scent of Autumn Damask
and the taste of pomegranates
bled into one.


Late September, without fail
the double bloom repeats and fades,
shades of pink retreating, leaving
only pale flesh and memories behind.


Copyright © 2011 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved


About cjchaffin

Wordsmithing is my passion. I eat, sleep, and breathe words and phrases, only to regurgitate them and pray that they are better off than when I first ingested them.
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Autumn Damask

  1. mamta says:

    The eroticism is very subtly handled in this poem.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s