Love Song
The scene is made
coherent by perspective.
Where we’d touched
islands of vertigo shiver.
Our love is sturdier
than a mitred arm.
Your silence is discarnate
braceletted in gold.
Exquisitely bored
you hunch around the cushion
a bleeding isotope.
A thousand winters
have been so.
From the window’s proscenium
the warehouses look sheer.
Through suffering glass
flecks of black snow sniffle capriciously
enclosing the fracas.
There is an electric ray:
your mind must be moving now
- vagaries
scuttle across the room
pausing in shadows
with pounces sprung
and once again
we melt into each other
sea and sky
around a ponderous moon.
Page(s) 83
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