People swarmed around him; moving bodies, warm, strong-smelling, breath. He pushed past the gold-hemmed women with their tunics overflowing and their eyes lined with glitter
Towards the young one his heart yearned for; jewels christening her brow, strands of gold and feathers woven through her midnight hair, eyes that shone like half-moons
I'll give you anything you could ever wish for, if you dance.
Her delicate hand pressed into his back as her face flicked up to his; and his heart beat wildly, as she moved with him to their own rhythm, demanding the attention of every passing eye, weaving in and out of the shadows and sunlight like two hovering ghosts
And the smell of her wafting up towards him, making him long for more of her; her quick touch and stealthy demeanour; her quiet eyes that could command an army
Then she stopped and lifted her eyebrows towards him
And her full lips moved slowly, assuredly:
Bring me the head of the Baptist.
YOU ARE READING
These Times
Poetry"There comes a time when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you'd better learn the sound of it. Otherwise you'll never understand what it's saying." -Sarah Dessen A collection of Poems
