Iceberg

Iceberg

Sinking, I say it.
I love the five-sixths under water
As much as that above.
Her nose on mine, she shudders
No, it’s not there. She sees no smile
But feels it, loving
That I won’t drink of her whispered lie.
Her tongue is proof on my lips.

There is no land here, no footing.
No world.
Just her kiss, a punch through iron
And a wound one wishes for.
This ship is going down.
Hold on. Hold to the iceberg
White, and warm.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007