Atop a soft, convex tray,
Its twin, not too far away
Clustered ruby bubble-wrap
Bursts with pops of tang-sweet sap
Onto a tongue that’s far too eager.
Want-away juice, precious, meagre,
Sprays neon down a laundered shirt
Oh well – a second could not hurt.
Bryson Thomas
I used to be a loner, but
My mind is lately changed,
The metronome
That I call home
Is greatly rearranged.
One was once my bastion,
A number quite proficient,
But now there’s two,
And that two is you,
One is insufficient.
Bryson Thomas
I know I didn’t mean
That thing you thought I said,
My meaning lost
By that most unreliable witness
Named low expectations.
And yet again I’m mired knee-deep
As, through saline diamonds, your gunmetal eyes
Pull me beneath,
A violent, stroboscopic death-roll of accusation and hurt.
Flashes
My breath is gone
I’m drowning
My breath is gone
I’m thinking you’ll go too
I’m sinking.
And I concede myself to the dark
Knowing this time we’re over.
Over.
And then – it’s over.
I am beached again.
The sun warms my back.
And life – is back.
Eyes open. Ears clear.
I breathe.
And I love.
And you love too.
Our apologies embrace.
And we are as clean-skinned as the day before us.
Bryson Thomas
I may struggle spelling ‘lingerie’
But I sure know how to linger
When my lover traps with silken webs
And I break them with a finger.
Bryson Thomas
A breath withheld
An oyster shelled
A look to blush the moon
LeMotagne rasps
A bra unclasps
The bedclothes a typhoon
A deep mouth wet
A form beset
By nibbles, licks and bites
A mountain climbed
Two bodies rhymed
In Cupid’s sweet delights
A fever breaks
A hunger slakes
A spine is arched to sky
And what belongs
Is never wrong
And lovers don’t ask why.
Bryson Thomas
Love is a soft blue wall behind the headboard,
Leaf-addled sunlight playing on a thigh,
The cool innocence of fresh-laundered sheets,
A languid Sunday.
Love is a crossword shared,
A soft-poached egg, espresso, sourdough morning,
Bamboo wind-chimes and dragonflies,
Adirondack chairs arm to arm.
Love is a hand on the knee,
Brunette DNA tousled about a finger,
Fresh squeezed, delivered daily,
The lyric to a gentle duet.
Bryson Thomas
Restrain
Refrain
Insult
Explain,
Stumble and
Mumble and
Bruise and
Fumble,
Touch and
Tangle and
Creak and
Jangle,
Embalming
Disarming
Disgusting
Alarming,
Exhausting and
Taxing
Tensing
Relaxing,
Restoring
Exploring
Imploring
Assuring,
Adoring.
Bryson Thomas
It started with a wink.
But that’s not where it started.
It started with abandonment,
And forced independence,
And bare-knuckled survival,
With a brain-thirst to slake,
With poverty that money can’t buy,
And the delight of square pegs.
It started with the Preschool of self-made amusements,
With the Governess of necessity,
With the Grammar of exclusion,
And the College of subsistence,
And obsidian wit.
It started with standing apart,
And standing out,
And standing the difference,
And standing at all.
It started with beauty,
It started with candour,
Love.
It started before we met.
Bryson Thomas
brysonthomas 
Leave a comment