Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Cold Flight by Hauoli Kahaleuahi


Landing in Seattle, February.
Trips here are frequent and familiar,
Cold nibbles, dewy dawns, shivering light
And morning cuddles, blankets warm, I like.

We hide, bodies wrapped, heads tucked, feet tangled.
Voices heard and ignored, blown off with breeze,
A tender wind with ferocious bite, it
Seeps through sills, wafts in and finds us under.

Defrosting begins from within. Liquid
Remedies soothe, first honey hinted “hards”,
Then a burning burst of fermented, aged
To extreme, moonshine tainted with apple.

To the surface, bodies naked and out.
Bouncing and bubbly, champagne overflows.
Frost circulates around trees, leaving leaves
Loose. Inside, hearts are one, connected beats.

Hands numb and fingertips icy, run quick,
Hurry to heaps of fluff, heated piles,
A sea of covers, like waves holding on
To a shivering stern, welcoming arms.

Encompassed with passion, deep and felt on
Bones that chatter when brazed by chilling air,
Air that climbs cream-colored walls and wisps
Over steamed mirrors, searching for whispers.

Hidden again, the cold overbearing,
Frightening and sharp, cutting at our toes.
Hastily bodies become molded, one.
Limbs fly aggressively, cover me now.

Silence. Ears blushed with red, eyes shut softly.
Goodnight cold, shivers stop with dreams of warm.


 _______________________________________________



BY ADRIAN C. LOUIS
I flew into Denver April.
Rock salt and sand peppered the asphalt
reflecting myself on a downtown street
where I’d paused on my route to smell lilacs.
The wanton winds chortled wickedly
over remnant snows in gray clumps of doom
and my heart soared gladly at winter’s death
but an hour later I had whiskey breath
at a dead end bar full of Indians.
A Winnebago woman waltzed with me
and told me how handsome I truly was
so I bought her drinks and felt her hips
and somewhere between the grinds
and dips she lifted my wallet and split.

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