#poem #poetry #amwriting 21


Scent of light still haze hung: wakened,
opened to day more now than dim
ridings of the moon; curtain trees

starkling in their elemental twigness.
A brutal sheet inviting not
to enter in. but softly lay

a palm upon the skin:
as knowing as your face compared
in mirror to old photograph.

This place of sharing breath tricks
in puckered kiss, finger cross,
slopes that lull us onto steepness

to keep the timid bayed. Feel what
you cannot say. The flinching
flashed phantom thrilling scene

brought to sense by folly, as by faith,
that we connect with all things
and with all things we too vibrate.

Our heart, our pumping doubt,
forever knows this moment, it is
the thinking eye: will never....