by Lana Bella

You still miss me from the time:
I drew upon your lips with my whiskey-
laced fingers;
the fingers that I'd danced across smooth
dual-toned piano keys,
to the tattooed flesh with engraved beast
on the strapping bicep.
Your breaths came through heavy and sweet
stirring gone the cigar smoke,
so close I could taste your frothy scent.
You leaned toward, both arms resting
on the console grand,
where throbbing veins ached rhythms of
the briny sea.
There, at the scarred shadow of your funny bone:
clear echo of painted ships
and pine-knot smokes,
a well-dressed suit of slate-flawed skin;
dusky light swept gold blunt-cut fingertips,
slow whirl of the ceiling fan skimmed across
your brown hair cool.
Into the whiskey-varnished air and against
the wisps of smoldering mist,
my fingers flirted with the familiar refuge of octaves'
crunched desire and toyed sleigh bells,
upon the ivory white and charcoal black
keys of the piano.
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Lana Bella has a diverse work of poetry and flash fiction published and forthcoming with
Anak Sastra, Atlas Poetica, Bareback Magazine, Bewildering Stories, Beyond
Imagination, Buck-Off Magazine, Calliope Magazine, Cecile's Writers' Magazine, Deltona
Howl, Earl of Plaid Lit, Eunoia Review, Family Travel Haiku, First Literary Review-East,
Five Willows Literary Review, Foliate Oak Literary, Garbanzo Literary Journal, Global
Poetry, Ken*Again, Kind Of A Hurricane Press, Marco Polo Arts Literary, Mothers Always
Write, Nature Writing, New Plains Review, Poetry Pacific, Spank The Carp, The Camel
Saloon, The Commonline Journal, The Higgs Weldon, The Voices Project, Thought
Notebook, War Anthology: We Go On, Undertow Tanka Review, Wordpool Press,
Wilderness House Literary Review, Featured Artist with Quail Bell Magazine. She resides
on some distant isle with her novelist husband and two frolicsome imps.
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