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You enter me |
noiseless as a fish,
sleeping as you swim.
You enter me like a startled buck,
like a monarch does a mouth,
like carbonation does a spring,
as the tremble does the tree.
You enter me as the chat in my chatoyancy,
as the nimbus does the cloud.
Like the tongue enters the marrow bone,
as the thistle does the milk.
Like the terroir does the Cabernet,
the blood inside the stab.
You enter me, a gust of wind up a slipless skirt,
like the wreck in recompense,
like little tragedies.
As the mourning in my cloak.
You enter me and then the stars unsphere.
You enter me.
You enter me again.
I watch and disappear...
copyright 2015
Elisabeth Adwin
Edwards |
