The Daily Croissant

Wisteria Woman 
by Lisa Shields

"Violet lavender drug 
slipping beneath my skin, 
shucking off the stale air 
of too long shut in, 
too long shut away 
whispering to me 
to breathe deep and be.

The clothes fall away 
till I stand like mother Eve 
two bites before the apple. 
Lips blush to rose, 
and the tongue tastes 
of sweet tart pomegranate, 
while a wisp of wind 
carries hair to frame my face.

All I have been is pollen dusted, 
oh the wisteria sweet 
kissing deep, 
till I feel the promise of fertile, 
drooping fat on a vine 
petals that promise nothing, 
but hint at all.

A month from honeysuckle still to come, 
but I can taste the nights, 
raise my eyes to the mantle of sky, 
suddenly clad in the skin 
of every moonlit woman, 
and beckoning with my being 
for you to dance beneath 
the far flung sky 
in the arms of a Wisteria Woman"