clocking
Vesuvius
each
poem
is
a home
where
my desire
to
be heard
goes
to root
like
my fingers
outstretching
into
your hair
at
night
with
the window open
I
am certain
that
I have
been
here
before
time
became
chains
I
close my eyes
to
lift your scent
into
the foundry
of
words that know
my
tensing of
abdominal
muscles
is
curling potential
into
kinetic again
slow
building
the
magma of
each
further
each
exhale
each
billow
on
the pillow
that
you are
propped
against
and
somewhere inside me
is
the compass
and
the key
to
reach
into
the glory
of
your sea
salt
steam
and
hiss
it
starts
simply
with
a kiss
EJR
©
Before time became chains...I FELT that stinger...fantastic piece!
ReplyDeletewow...smoking hot piece...great build to it as you progress....felt...and i hope those poems have doors so the emotion can get out to the one intended...smiles.
ReplyDeleteWell now, this is a new favorite and I think will be for some time to come. Just perfection.
ReplyDeleteA great poem !
ReplyDelete