Lily
I regard the creeping, quiet things
As a sufferer regards her quivering, lily thrills.
Starlight suckles moon-woven callouses,
And Twilight stirs cricket hymn; night's ecstasy.
You bloom between the crevices of my unworthy hands,
But held in the splendid stasis of that dying ivory satin,
We are not, but simple creatures,
Knotting constellations together
To allay an inevitable epilogue.
josie
YOU ARE READING
wildflowering
PoetryA selection of love letters, diary entries, prose, poetry and fragments of writing. "I find you where there might have once been a horizon, smudged between the esoteric press of lips and folding of hands; I find you in the immemorial gasp between b...
