And How the Wings Are Softly Grown, by Taunja Thomson

And How the Room is Softly Fading, by Lorette C. Luzajic (Canada). 2016. Click image for artist site.

And How the Wings Are Softly Grown

Late afternoon sun pulses into room
as shadows begin to demand
their fair share    mix
with beams    darken them
to bronze.
The figure in the middle of room
softens her stance so that body
morphs into curves
and dips.
Tops of tresses    outer arms
tops of breasts    ends of nipples
outer thighs    feet    streaked
with alchemy of shade and blaze--
all pinken with onset 
of shadows.
Waving branches     passing cars
spinning birds     create squiggles
and squares and patches
of dark that lengthen
and drip down walls
alongside the gold 
of passing day.
Wrestling umber and blonde smudges
creep from corners    undulate up her back
there conspire and intertwine 
to forge wings that flare
sizzle and smolder
Persian pink in the thick
of midnight.

Taunja Thomson

Taunja Thomson’s poetry has most recently appeared in Peacock Journal and Half-Baked.  Two of her poems have been nominated for Pushcart Awards: “Seahorse and Moon” in 2005 and “I Walked Out in January” in 2016.  She has co-authored a chapbook of ekphrastic poetry that is due out in May of 2017 and has a writer’s page at  HYPERLINK "https://www.facebook.com/TaunjaThomsonWriter" https://www.facebook.com/TaunjaThomsonWriter.  A worshiper of nature, her summers are filled with water gardening, and her winters are spent obsessively feeding the birds and other wildlife that appear in her one-acre slice of heaven, a field.