finding the words
Venetian masks are my worn voices
and all the ley lines between
what I lean against
under the Sun and Moon
this gives me choices
when I swoon
or is it that every time
I fall in Love
I am reminded why
my humanity dines
on tined emotion
at an arms length
kept from my hearts strength
there are many oceans
to keep horizons curved
the space of time for one
and the seas,even the rivers
of calendars in wheels and pages
and my scratched ready skin
rutting to bloom from its cages
my wombs crack bleeding
a cup's pour kneading every rise
the low orbits of Spring eyed
the roots beneath my belly crawls
where all I wanted to do was feel
your warm mud cover
every part of me
while I was trying to find
enough in the paint of words
that might not reveal
for everyone to see
how much I Love Thee
EJR (c)
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