my kitchen smells like

Hello beautiful person! Thank you for finding this blog post. Unfortunately I have moved all of this post's scintillating original content to my new blog, here.

Peace out.

peaches - a poem

Imagine a puddle of peaches on a countertop. The blushing warmth of skin. Their roundness. A heat that is the colour of my heart, and a vision that makes my heart ache...

Pick one up. The weight and heft registering against palm. The gentleness of fingers not wishing to bruise. The stroke of a thumb against velveteen...

Lift to your nose and close your eyes. A fragrance of lightness that vanishes if inhaled too deeply. A vision of tiny white flowers that evaporate in a rainbow’s end whenever you get too close...

A sudden bite, and an explosion of sweetness. The ache of blushing colour now turned juicy. Inner flesh that melts under the tongue. The swallow...

The end is dripping stickiness, and a ragged pip that’s hard as rock...

(plant it, and another tree will grow...)

Friday, September 3, 1999

copyright 1999, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow

solstice blues - a poem

on a shiny sunny
second day of summer

i pull the covers over
my head in the middle of the afternoon

and hide from a life
without your kiss



it's not even
july yet but

the days are getting shorter now
won't be long until

november crashes round
my head in groans

Sunday, June 22, 2003

copyright 2003, Michelle Lynne Goodfellow