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Click hereSilent, I watch him:
hidden,
like his hope, too deep
down
He runs from the haunting
of his own making,
his own guilt
chasing
him
still
not from, but toward
love
his long-legged beauty with velvet
skin and laughing eyes
And yet... he can't stop dreaming
of long hair like white corn silk
wound round his fingers,
or brushing his nose and lips
when he nuzzles her skin
eyes that skim the surface
impenetrable
mythical as any saga
her mind's elegant fingers reach underneath
dig into the man, and the dreamer, and their love.
She floats cloud-like, a marine layer of "I wish...," then dissipates.
The winter sun burns her off, creature of night and early morning,
like steam rising from his teacup.
Yet--there--again she appears
on the back of his eyelids
on the inside of his
soul, as hard as
he tries to
protect
him
self
he can't forget her, can't turn away
from that burned-in shadow
left after staring at her sun
the brand that hurts
every single day.
Every time I read this poem the experience is different. The reality of the poem is fluid for me while the structure is solidly polished.
This poem has such fluidity. It flows like a river. My favorite line is: 'a marine layer of "I wish..."' So pretty.
this is lovely. Carefully structured and gripping. Very effective. Five